i^^P^Hf^^Mtpqp^^p  ipih^.j       ^ 


BV  4531  .A2  1832 
Abbott,  Jacob,  1803-1879. 
The  young  Christian,  or  A 
familiar  illustration  of 


The  John  !>I.  Krebs  Donsttion. 


THE 


YOUNG        CHRISTIAN 


^  jFamiliav  tllustvatiou  of  ttje  ^principles 


CHRISTIAX     DUTY. 


BY    JACOB    ABBOTT, 

Principal  of  the  Mt.  Vernon  Female  School,  Boston. 


BOSTON: 

LI  SHED   BY   PEIRCE   AND   PARKER 

No.  9  Cornhill. 
1S32. 


t 

Entered,  according  to  Act  ol   Congress,  in  the  year  1832,  by 

Peirce  &  Parker, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  Massachusetts. 


INTRODUCTION 


I.       OBJECT    OF    THE    BOOK. 


This  book  is  intended  to  explain  and  illustrate,  in  a 
simple  manner,  the  principles  of  Christian  duty,  and  is 
intended,  not  for  children,  nor  exclusively  for  the  young, 
but  for  all  who  are  just  commencing  a  religious  life,  and 
who  feel  desirous  of  receiving  a  familiar  explanation  of 
the  first  principles  of  piety j»  As  it  is  a  fact,  however,  that 
such  persons  are  generally  among  the  young,  that  is 
from  fifteen  to  twenty-five  years  of  age,  the  work  has 
been  adapted,  in  its  style,  and  in  the  character  of  its  illus- 
trations, to  their  mental  habits. 

I  liave,  however,  looked  more  towards  childhood  than 
toward  maturity,  in  choosing  the  form  in  which  I  have 
presented  the  truth,  and  the  narrative  or  dialogue  by 
which  I  have  illustrated  it.  A  young  man  of  twenty-five 
will  look  back  to  his  boyhood,  and  understand  an  illus- 
tration drawn  from  one  of  its  scenes,  far  more  easily  than 
the  boy  can  look  forward  to  future  life,  and  comprehend 
and  appreciate  allusions  to  the  pursuits  of  the  man.  I 
trust  that  the  reader  of  mature  mind,  into  whose  hands 
this  book  may  fall,  will  excuse  this  partiality  for  the 
young. 


IV 
II.       STYLE    AND    LANGUAGE. 


I  have  made  no  effort  to  simplify  the  language.  It  is 
not  necessary  to  do  this  even  for  children.  They  will 
understand  the  language  of  maturity  easily  enough,  if 
the  logic  and  rhetoric  are  theirs.  I  have  attempted) 
therefore,  to  present  each  subject  in  such  an  aspect,  and 
to  illustrate  it  in  such  a  way,  as  is  adapted  to  the  young 
mind,  using,  however,  such  language  as  has  suggested 
itself  spontaneously.  It  is  a  great  but  a  very  common  er- 
roi*,  to  suppose  that  merely  to  simplify  diction  is  the  way 
to  gain  access  to  the  young.  Hence  a  sermon  for  chil- 
dren is  seldom  any  thing  more  than  a  sermon  for  oncn. 
\\\\\\  easy  words  substituted  for  the  hard  ones.  This 
goes  on  the  supposition  that  the  great  difficulty  is  to  make 
children  understand  religious  truth.  Whereas  there  is  no 
difficulty  at  all  in  this.  The  difficulty  is  in  interesting 
them  in  it.  They  will  understand  readily  enough,  if 
they  are  interested  in  the  form  and  manner  in  which  the 
subject  comes  before  them. 

These  principles  will  explain  the  great  number  of  nar- 
ratives and  dialogues  and  statements  of  facts,  which  are 
introduced  to  give  vividness  to  the  conceptions  of  my  read- 
ers. I  am  not  certain  but  that  some  individuals  of  mature 
minds  may  object  to  the  number  of  imaginary  incidents 
which  I  have  thus  introduced.  If  the  principles  stated 
above  are  not  considered  satisfactory,  I  must  appeal  to 
authority.  This  book  is  not  more  full  of  parables  than 
were  the  discourses  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  shelter  myself  be- 
hind hi?  example. 


in.       REQUEST    TO    PARENTS. 


Every  parent  knows  that  there  is  great  danger 
that  children  will  run  over  tlie  pages  of  a  book  where 
narrative  and  dialogue  are  introduced  to  illustrate  reli- 


gioiis  tiutli,  and,  with  peculiar  dexterity,  will  find  out  and 
read  all  that  has  the  interest  of  a  story,  and  skip  the  rest. 
There  will  perhaps,  in  this  volume,  be  less  danger  of  this, 
from  the  fact  that  the  whole  is  so  intimately  interwoven  as 
to  render  it  in  most  cases  difficult  to  separate.  A  mother 
can,  however,  effectually  prevent  it  if  she  pleases.  If  her 
children  are  young,  and  she  fears  this  danger,  let  her  read 
the  book  to  them,  oi  let  her  assign  a  distinct  and  a  limited 
portion  for  each  Sabbath,  and  after  it  is  read,  let  her  ex- 
amine them  in  it,  asking  questions  in  regard  to  the  plan 
and  design  of  the  chapter, — the  circumstances  of  each 
narrative, — and  especially  the  purpose  for  ichich  it  is 
introduced.  This,  however,  must  be  done,  not  in  the 
suspicious  and  jealous  manner  of  hearing  a  lesson  w^hich 
you  fear  has  not  been  learned  ;  but  with  the  winning 
tone  of  kindness  and  confidence. 


IV.       THEOLOGY    OF    THE    WORK. 


As  to  the  theology  of  the  work,  it  takes  every  where 
for  granted  that  salvation  is  to  be  obtained  through  re- 
pentance for  past  sin,  and  trust  for  forgiveness  in  the  atone- 
ment of  Jesus  Christ.  It  is  not  however,  a  work  on 
theology.  It  is  designed  to  enforce  the  practice,  not  to 
discuss  the  theory  of  religion, — to  explain  and  illustrate 
Christian  duty,  not  Christian  truth  ;  but  it  exhibits  this 
duty  as  based  on  those  great  principles  in  which  all  de- 
nominations of  evangehcal  Christians  concur. 

V.       OTHER    BOOKS    OF    THE    KIND. 

There  are  already  several  most  interesting  and  usefu] 

books  before  the  public,  whose  object  is  the  same  with 

this, — to  give  Christian  instruction  to  the  young.     This 

w^ork  appears  not  as  their  rival,  but  as  their  companion. 

Most  young  Christians  have,  in  the  course  of  half  a  dozen 
*1 


VI 

years,  time  to  read  a  ^reat  many  pagCr;,  and  as  each  writer 
discusses  different  topics,  or  presents  them  in  new  aspects 
and  relations,  it  is  well  that  this  class  of  books  should  be 
multiplied.  If  twenty  different  individuals  in  various  parts 
of  our  country,  whom  Providence  has  placed  in  such 
circumstances  as  to  interest  them  particularly  in  the  youngs 
would  write  for  them,  the  books  would  all  be  read,  if  they 
were  properly  written,  and  would  all  do  good.  They 
would  be  different,  if  they  were  the  results  of  the  inde- 
pendent reflection  and  ol)servation  of  the  authors,  and 
each  would  co-operate  with  and  assist  the  other. 


CONTENTS, 


Chapter  I. — Confession. 

Introduction.  Nature  of  confession.  Case  supposed.  Story  of  the  boy'* 
disobedience  on  the  ice.  Consequences.  Their  unhappiucss.  Guilt  a 
burden.  Means  of  rehef.  The  boy's  confession.  His  conversation 
with  his  father.  Confession  of  littye  faults.  The  torn  letter.  The  anon- 
ymous letter.  Reparation  compared  with  confiession.  f-onfession  of 
great  crimes.     Punishment.     Story  of  boys  on  the  ice  continued.     To 

farents  and  teachers.  Confession  a  privilej^e  Depression  of  spirits, 
ts  remedy.  Careless  confession.  Anecdote.  Punishment.  An  ex- 
periment. Story  of  the  dulled  tool.  Story  continued.  Confession  to 
God.  Anxiety  uimecessar}'.  Common  mistakes.  Immediate  repen- 
tance.    Salvation  by  Christ, IS 


Chapter  II. — The  Friend. 

Story  of  an  Infant  School.  The  new  scholar.  The  protector  appointed. 
Qualifications.  Power  and  sympathy.  Story  of  the  sailor  boy.  The 
captain's  want  of  sympathy.  The  little  ship.  The  Saviour.  His  thirty 
years  of  life.  Howard.  Story  of  Howard.  Imajjinary  scene.  The 
voluntary  prisoner.  The  Saviour.  The  child's  little  difficulties.  Hu- 
man sympathy.  The  murderer's  cell.  Sympathy  for  the  j^uilty.  The 
keeper's  kindness  to  the  prisoner.  The  Saviour.  The  .Saviour's  Sym- 
pathy. Common  distrust  of  it.  Illustration.  Case  of  the  sick  man. 
Jesus  Christ  a  physician.  Struffglliij^  with  temptation.  The  benevolent 
teacher.  The  teacher  ima^^'ned  to  become  a  scholar.  Howard.  Sym- 
pathy of  Christ,  The  bruised  reed.  The  metaphor  of  the  bruised 
reed.  


Chapter  III. — Prayer. 


The  absent  son.  The  father's  promise.  Its  implied  limitations.  Impro- 
per requests.  Requests  in  an  improper  manm^r.  'F'he  letter.  Our 
Saviour's  promise.     Prayers  denied.     Power  of  prayer.     Granting  re- 


vm 

quests  in  another  form.  The  boy  asking  for  a  knife.  The  sick  man 
unexpectedly  cured.  Submissive  spirit.  Prayers  of  the  young.  The 
packet.  Description  of  the  packet.  The  calm.  The  Christian  trav- 
eller. Books  and  tracts.  The  long-  pas-ag'\  The  approaching  storm. 
They  watch  tiie  light.  The  storm  increases.  Going  about.  Splitting 
of  the  topsail.  Danger.  Protection  never  certain.  Object  of  prayer 
in  danger.  Socrates.  His  peace  of  mind.  True  composure  in  danger. 
The  prayer  at  sea.  Efiecls.  Sincerity  of  prayer.  Ardor  in  prayer. 
All  can  pray  who  wish  to. 
A  difticuliy  about  selfishness.  Reply.  Invitation  to  the  weary.  The 
prodigal.  'J'he  nobleman.  The  desk.  The  father's  refusal.  Real 
selfishness.  Importunate  praver.  The  unjust  Judge.  Prayer  of  Faith. 
The  morning  prayer  meeting.  The  Young  Christian's  difficulty.  The 
Mother.  God  decides.  A  favorable  answer  to  prayer  never  certain. 
Danger  of  perversion.  The  humble  teacher.  Conclusion.  Story  of 
the  ship  concluded.  The  storm  subsides.  They  arrive  safely  at  Prov- 
incetown.      ..-...-.------. 


Chapter  VI. — Difficulties  in  Religion. 

Story  of  the  Chinese  and  the  map.  Difficulties  in  all  subjects.  Astrono- 
mical difficulties.  Diffictilties  in  Religion  to  be  expected.  First  diffi- 
culty. Attempt  to  avoid  it.  Conversation  continued.  Second  diffi- 
culty. Extent  of  the  creation.  Difficulty.  The  existence  of  suftering 
inexplicable.  'J'he  pirate  condemned  to  die.  Accountability.  Fore- 
knowledge. Story  of  father  and  son.  Imaeiuary  conversation  with  an 
infidel.     Answering  prayer.     Case  supposed.    The  sick  son.     Miracu- 


41 


Chapter  IV. — Consequences  of  Neglecting  Duty. 

Neglecting  duty.  Injury  which  this  book  will  do.  The  disobedient  child. 
The  message  disregarded.     The  Christian  message. 

Sto7-y  of  Louisa.  Her  character.  The  evening  meeting.  Louisa's  in- 
terest in  religion.  Conversation  with  her.  Increasing  interest.  Un- 
willing to  yield  to  God.  Her  sickness.  She  sends  for  her  pastor.  Her 
alarm.  Her  increasing  anxiety.  Death-bed  repentance.  Increasing 
sickness,  and  mental  sutTering.  Danger.  Louisa's  despair.  Her  ad- 
vice to  her  young  friends.  Last  visit.  Her  sufferings.  She  dies  at  mid- 
night.    Her  feehngs  at  last. 64 


Chapter  V. — Almost  a  Christian. 

Almost  a  Christian.  Louisa's  case  a  common  one.  Neglecting  duly, 
when  it  is  clearly  pointed  out.  .Secret  causes  of  continuing  in  sin. 
First,  Procra.slination.  The  student's  evening  walks.  The  admission 
to  College.  Resolutions  for  vacations  ;  for  senior  years  ;  for  future 
life.  Now  is  the  accepted  lime.  Second,  Love  of  the  World.  Sacri- 
fices necessary  in  becoming  a  Christian.  Losing  a  i'riend  ;  an  enjoy- 
ment. Tlnrd,  Fear  of  the  world.  Difficulties  foretold  by  the  Saviour. 
Entire  surrender  required.  Real  submission.  Changing  sides.  Ad- 
dress to  a  young  man. lo 


lous  interference  in  answering  prayer.  Sources  of  Difficulty.  Algebra, 
The  surd.  Difficulty  theoretical.  None  in  practice. 
Objectsof  this  chapter.  1.  Inquiries.  Disobedient  school-boy.  2.  Per- 
plexities of  Christians;  Way  to  avoid  them.  Plausible  reasoning 
sometimes  unsafe.  Scholars  in  Geometry.  Drawing  inferences.  Story 
of  the  knights  and  the  statue.  The  shield  of  brass  and  iron.  One  kind 
of  controversy.  3.  Difficulties  of  children.  Children's  questions.  4. 
Difficulties  of  Parents  and  Teachers.  The  school-boy's  question.  The 
sisters.     Evening  conversation.     A  humble,  docile  spirit. 


Chapter  VII. — Evidences  of  Christianity. 

The  doubting  clerk.  The  unexpected  letter.  The  sick  child.  Possible 
mistakes.  Men  act  from  reasonable  evidence.  Evidences  of  Christi- 
anity, Historical,  Internal  and  Experimental.  Illustration.  The  Phos- 
phorus. 

1.  Historical  Evidence.  Seal.  Miracles.  Examining  witnesses.  The 
court.  The  court-room.  The  prisoner.  His  accusation  and  trial. 
Testimony  of  the  owner  5 — of  the  watchman.  The  lawyer's  question. 
The  watchman's  story.  The  prisoner  convicted.  Points  secured  on 
trials.  Three  points  to  be  attended  lo.  Irruption  of  the  barbarians. 
Old  manuscripts.  Genuineness  of  the  Scriptures.  Quotations.  Illus- 
tration. Use  made  of  quotations.  Paley's  evidences.  Necessity  for 
proving  the  genuineness  of  the  Scriptures.  The  original  records  not 
remaimng.  The  second  point.  Opportunities  of  knowing.  The  house- 
breaker's trial.  Sacred  writers  could  not  have  been  mistaken.  They 
were  eye-witnesses.  Third  point.  Their  style  of  writing.  Impartiality. 
Elevated  views.  They  were  disinterested.  Our  Saviour's  farewell 
address.  Interested  witnesses.  Battle  of  Lexington.  Parliament  and 
Congress.  Points  proved.  Argument  from  prophecy.  Prophecies. 
False  prophecies.  Subject  difficult.  Were  the  Christian  witnesses 
beloved  ?     Contest  with  Paganism.     Power  of  truth. 

2.  Internal  Evidence.  Unity  of  the  scriptures.  The  Bible  a  number  of 
books.  Its  single  object.  The  Bible  a  history  of  Christ.  Sacrifices. 
Meaning  of  sacrifices.  Their  moral  influence.  Conclusion  of  the  book- 
Appropriate  language.  The  advent  of  the  Saviour.  Its  time  and 
place.  The  Mediterranean  sea.  Interesting  associations.  Character 
of  God.  Language  of  nature  ;  of  the  Bible.  The  sufferer  in  the  hospi- 
tal.   Jehovah  just,  as  well  as  merciful.     Butler's  analogy. 

3.  Experimental  Evidence.  Case  of  sickness  supposed.  Medicine. 
Proof  of  it.  The  mother.  The  mother  and  her  sick  son.  The  Unbe- 
liever. Power  of  Christianity.  Particular  case.  Prisons.  Old  and 
new  system  of  discipline.  Stories  of  the  convicts.  The  disobedient  son.- 
Conversation.  Struggles  with  sin.  Second  story.  Nature  of  ardent 
spirit.  W.'s  crime.  Learning  to  read  in  prison.  First  lesson.  Effect 
of  the  Bible  upon  W.  Sins  against  God.  W.'s  mental  sufferings.  His 
prayer.  His  way  of  finding  the  51st  Psalm.  His  relief  Close  of  the 
Convicts'  stories.  Charlestown  State  Prison.  Old  building.  Crowded 
night  rooms.  Arms.  Prison  yard.  Chapel.  Prisoners  going  to  Sab- 
bath school.  Aspect  of  the  school.  Prisoners'  dress.  Limited  circu- 
lation of  the  Bible.  Fear  of  death.  The  sick  young  man.  Sting  of  death. 
The  dying  mother.  Practical  directions.  Difficulties.  Disputes. 
Doing  duty,       ,,,.-,,.....,,-..---  Ill 


Chapter  VIII. — Study  of  the  Bible. 

Way  to  study  the  Bible.  The  young  man's  experiment.  The  family 
circle,  Di»uH>ulion  of  books.  Interest  of  the  children.  Pariicular 
directions.  K;>.iniliar  sounds.  The  motto  in  the  school  room.  Descrip- 
tion from  the  Bible  Vivid  conceptions.  Picturing  the  scene  to  the 
mind.  Clear  conceptions.  West's  picture  of  Christ  rejected.  Efi'ect 
upon  the  assembly.  VVnting  questions.  God's  command  to  Abraham. 
Questions  upon  the  passage.  Questions  written  by  a  boy.  Many  faulty. 
Utility  of  writing  questions.  Many  questions  on  one  verse.  Experi- 
ment tried  by  a  motlier  A  iSabbath  school  teacher.  Re-writing  scrip- 
ture. The  boy's  evening  work.  Actual  case.  Passage.  Ditficulty 
arising.  Explanation  of  it.  Story  of  Micah,  a  specimen.  Two  speci- 
mens on  the  same  subject.  Questions.  Collating  the  scriptures.  Plan 
tried  by  James  and  John.  Effect  ot  this  method.  Three  accounts  of 
Paul's  conversion.  Advantages  of  the  plan.  List  of  lessons.  Difficul- 
ties to  be  anticipated.  Studying  by  subjects.  The  Sabbath.  J<  rusa- 
lem.  List  of  topics.  Too  little  intellectual  study  of  the  Bible.  Object 
of  the  historic  form.  Reading  practically.  Daily  reading  of  the  Bible. 
Useless  reading.     The  apprentice.     Reading  two  verses  aright.  -     -     - 


Chapter  IX. — The  Sabbath. 

History  of  the  Sabbath.  Change  from  Saturday  to  Sunday.  Beginning 
of  the  Sabbath.  Idle  controversies.  A  father's  command  to  his  boys. 
The  question  about  the  clock  and  the  dial.  Universal  principle.  Two 
doves.  A  day  of  twenty-three  and  a  half  hours.  A  day  at  the  pole.  A 
day  lost.  No  sunset  for  months.  Sabbath  in  Greenland.  Cliange  to 
first  day.  No  change  in  the  conmiand.  The  creation.  Principle  im- 
portant. Non  essentials.  Liability  to  evasion.  Human  and  divine 
laws.  Spirit  of  the  law.  James'  way  of  reading  the  Bible.  A  boy 
studying  his  lesson.  The  boat.  The  careful  mother.  Way  to  inter- 
est children.  Conversation  with  the  children.  Ingenuity  and  effort 
necessary.  The  heart  to  be  reached.  Variety.  Remarks  of  a  cler- 
gyman. Necessity  of  variety.  Religious  books.  Way  of  spending 
the  Sabbath.  Various  duties.  Sy^^tem  in  religious  exercises.  Waste 
of  time  prevented.  Rest  on  the  'Sabbath.  Distinct  duties  to  be  per- 
formed. Way  to  make  self-examination  interesting  and  useful.  Min- 
uteness of  self-examination.  Prayer.  Studying  the  Bible,  and  conver- 
sation on  the  Sabbath:  Frivolous  conversation.  Public  worship.  H  e- 
sponsibility  of  the  hearers.  The  farmer  and  his  hoys.  Duty  of  the 
hearers  to  be  interested.  Sinister  motives  at  church.  W%')y  to  delect 
them.  Heartless  worship.  Way  in  which  it  is  indicated.  Appearance 
of  evil.  The  summer  evening.  A  walk.  Walking,  riding,  sailing, 
on  the  Sabl^ath. 212 


Chapter  X. — Trial  and  Discipline. 

Nature  of  Trial.  The  steam  boat  on  trial.  EfTorls  of  the  engineer. 
Improvements.  Final  results.  Her  power.  Safe  and  successful  ac- 
tion. Life  a  lime  of  trial.  Trials  of  childhood.  The  cl^ild  and  the 
forbiflden  l)ook.  Commands.  Pain.  Advantage  of  trial  in  childhood. 
Putting  playthings  out  of  reach.  Conversation  with  a  mother.  Trials 
not  to  be  shunned.  Instruction  ami  practice.  The  merchant's  plan  fcr 
his  son.     A  voyage  of  diflicully.     Its  efl'ects, 


Tlie  uses  of  Trial.  Self-knowledge.  The  deceived  mother.  True 
submission  distinguished  from  false.  The  engineer  was  watchful.  Trial 
a  means  of  improvement.  'I'he  boy  studying  division.  The  moral  and 
arithmetical  question.  Practical  directions.  God's  providence  univer- 
sal. Losses  of  every  kind  from  God,  The  careless  engineer.  Neglect^ 
of  duty.     Concluding  remarks. 242 


Chapter  XI. — Personal  Improvement. 

1.  Moral  Improvement.  General  improvement  a  Christian  duty.  Moral 
improvement.  Faults.  The  vain  boy.  Way  to  reform  him.  Conver- 
sation with  his  father.  Instances  of  vanity.  The  boy's  list.  Kffect  of 
this  confession.  Secret  confession  to  be  minute.  Secret  prayer  often 
too  general.  Way  to  make  prayer  mteresting.  Formal  confession. 
Excuses.  Way  to  make  secret  prayer  interesting.  Private  prayer. 
Examples  of  minute  confession.  The  father's  letter.  Object  of  this 
illustration.  Faults  to  be  corrected.  Young  and  old  persons.  Other 
means  of  correcting  faults.  Exposure  to  temptation.  Conversation  be- 
tween the  boy  and  his  friend.     Great  and  small  temptations. 

Growing  in  grace.  Unavailing  eftbrts.  The  mother.  'J'he  man  of  bu- 
siness. The  dejected  Christian.  Direct  eftbrts.  Freedom  of  feeling 
and  freedom  of  action.  Way  to  mould  the  heart.*  Metaphysical  con- 
troversy. Slory  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester.  Richard's  artful  plan. 
The  council.  Violent  measures.  Rlurder  of  the  boys.  Analysis  of  the 
story,  Richard's  wicked  character.  Sense  in  which  ciiaracter  is  vol- 
untary. Distinction  between  character  and  conduct.  Importance  of  it. 
Moral  obligation.  Ways  ol  influencing  the  character.  Effect  of  Chris- 
tian knowledge.  The  mother.  The  child.  Gratitude.  Christian  action. 
Why  Howard  became  interested  for  prisoners.  Paul.  Dependence 
upon  the  Holy  Spirit.     And  evil  heart.     Divine  influence  necessary. 

2.  Intellectual  Improvement.  A  finished  education.  Object  of  education. 
1.  To  strengthen  the  powers,  Robinson  Crusoe's  supposed  experi- 
ment with  Friday.  Conic  Sections.  Diliicultslud.es.  2.  Acquisition  of 
knowledge.  3.  Skill.  Three  experiments  with  Friday,  Teaching  him 
to  connt.  Study  of  Alalhematics.  Imperfect  education.  Neglect  of 
important  duties.  Intellectual  progress  of  a  young  mother.  1. 
Reading.  System.  Variety.  Thorough  reading.  Short  works,  2 
Conversation.  Difficulty  of  cultivating  it.  Means  of  cultivating  it. 
Experiments  proposed.  Plans  and  experiments.  Digesting  knowl- 
edge. 3.  Writincr.  Private  Journals.  Form  and  manner.  Run- 
ning titles.  Family  Journal,  liy  brothers  and  sisters.  Its  advan- 
ges.  Subjects.  Notes  and  Abstracts.  True  design  of  taking  notes. 
Form  of  books.  Plan.  Variety.  Specimens.  Reynolds.  Humboldt. 
Chronology.  Synagogues.  History  of  the  Bible.  Sir  Humphre}'  Da- 
vy. Story  of  the  sea  Captain.  Hiring  children.  The  Saviour's  thirst 
on  the  cross.  Deceiving  children.  Narratives.  Ellen,  or  boast  not 
thyself  of  to-morrow.  The  Dying  bed.  The  patient's  interest  in  reli- 
gion. Her  address  to  her  husband.  Her  affecting  remarks  to  her 
children.     Moral  aspects  of  what  is  seen  and  heard.     Power  of  the  pen.  259 


Chapter  XII. — Conclusion. 

Responsibility  of  religious  teachers.     Injury  to  be  done  by  this  book.    Im- 
perfect self-application.     A  useless  way  of  reading.       -----    -316 


THE 


YOUNG   CHRISTIAN 


CHAPTER     I. 


CONFESSION. 


"  Confess  your  faults  one  to  another.' 


Introduction.  Nature  of  confession.  Case  supposed. 

I  wish,  in  this  first  chapter,  to  point  out  to  my  reader, 
something-  in  the  nature  and  effects  of  conftssion,  which  ev- 
ery one  has  perhaps,  at  some  time,  experienced,  but  which 
few  sufficiently  consider.  I  mean  its  power  to  bring  peace 
and  happiness  to  the  heart.  But  to  make  myself  clearly 
understood  I  must  suppose  a  case. 

Two  boys,  on  a  pleasant  winter  evening,  ask  their  father 
to  permit  them  to  go  out  upon  the  river  to  skate.  The 
father  hesitates,  because,  though  within  certain  limits,  he 
knows  there  is  no  danger,  yet  he  is  aware  that  above  a  cer- 
tain turn  of  the  stream,  the  current  is  rapid  and  the  ice  con- 
sequently thin.  At  last,  however,  he  says,  "  You  may  go, 
but  you  must  on  no  account  go  above  the  bend." 

The  boys  accept  the  condition  and  are  soon  among  their 
twenty  companions  shooting  swiftly  over  the  smooth,  black 
ice,  sometimes  gliding  in  graceful  curves  before  the  bright 
fire  which  they  have  built  in  the  middle  of  the  strearh, — and 
sometimes  sailing  away  into  the  dim  distance  in  search  of 
new  and  unexplored  regions. 

Presently  a  plan  is  formed  by  the  other  boys  for  going  in 
a  cheerful  company,  far  up  the  stream,  to  explore  its  shores, 
2 


14  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Story  of  the  boys'  disobedience  on  the  ice.  Consequences. 

and  then  return  again  in  half  an  hour  to  their  fire.  Our 
two  boys  sigh  to  think  of  their  fathei-'s  prohibition  to  them. 
Thej  faintly  and  hesitatingly  hint  that  the  ice  may  not  be 
strong  enough,  but  their  caution  has  no  effect  upon  their 
comrades, — and  the  whole  set  forth  and  soon  are  flying  with 
full  speed,  towards  the  limit  prescribed.  Our  boys  think 
they  may  safely  accompany  them  till  they  reach  the  boun- 
dary which  they  are  forbidden  to  pass ; — but  while  they  do 
so  they  become  animated  and  intoxicated  with  the  motion 
and  the  scene.  They  feel  a  little  forboding  as  they  approach 
the  line,  but  as  it  is  not  definitely  marked,  they  do  not  ab- 
ruptly stop.  They  fall  a  little  in  the  rear,  and  see  whirling 
through  the  bend  of  the  river  the  whole  crowd  of  their  com- 
panions— and,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  they  follow  on. 
The  spot  once  past,  their  indecision  vanishes  ; — they  press 
forward  to  the  foremost  rank, — forget  their  father, — their 
promise, — their  danger.  God  protects  them  -however.  They 
spend  the  half  hour  in  delight, — return  down  the  river  to 
their  fire, — and,  at  the  close  of  the  evening,  they  take  off 
their  skates,  and  step  upon  the  firm  ground  and  walk  to- 
wards their  home. 

The  enjoyment  is  now  over,  and  the  punishment  is  to  come. 
What  punishment  1  I  do  not  mean  that  their  father  will 
punish  them.  He  knows  nothing  of  it.  He  trusts  his  boys, 
and,  confiding  in  their  promise,  he  will  not  ask  them  wheth- 
er they  have  kept  it.  They  have  returned  safely,  and  the 
forbidden  ice  over  which  they  have  passed  never  can  speak 
to  tell  of  their  disobedience.  Nor  do  I  mean  the  punish- 
ment, which  God  will  inflict  in  another  world  upon  unduti- 
ful  children.  I  mean  another  quicker  punishment,  and 
which  almost  always  comes  after  transgression.  And  I 
wish  my  young  readers  would  think  of  this,  more  than  they 
do. 

I  mean  the  loss  of  peace  of  mind. 

As  the  boys  approach  their  father's  dwelling,  unless  their 
consciences  have  become  seared  by  oft  repeated  transgres- 
sion, their  hearts  are  filled  with  uneasiness  and  forboding 
care.  They  will  walk  silently.  As  they  enter  the  house, 
they  shrink  from  their  father's  eye.  He  looks  pleased  and 
happy  at  their  safe  return.  But  they  turn  away  from  him 
as  soon  as  they  can,  and  prefer  going  to  another  room,  or  in 
some  other  way  avoidin^!:  his  presence.  Their  sister  perhaps, 
in  the  gaity  and  happiness  of  her  heart,  tries  to  talk  with 


CONFESSION.  15 


Their  uiihappiness.  Guilt  a  bunlen.  Means  of  relief. 

them  about  their  evening's  enjoyment, — but  they  wish  to 
turn  the  conversation.  In  a  word,  their  'peace  of  mind  is 
gone, — and  they  shrink  from  every  eye,  and  wish  to  go  as 
soon  as  possible  to  bed,  that  they  may  be  unseen  and  for- 
gotten. 

If  they  have  been  taught  to  fear  C4od,  they  are  not  happy 
here.  They  dare  not — strange  infatuation, — repeat  their 
evening  prayer; — as  if  they  supposed  they  could  escape 
God's  notice,  by  neglecting  to  call  upon  him.  At  last  how- 
ever they  sink  to  sleep. 

The  next  morning,  they  awake  with  the  customary  cheer- 
fulness of  childhood, — until  as  they  look  forth  from  their 
window,  they  see  the  clear,  ice  bound  stream  which  tempted 
them  to  sin,  wniding  its  way  among  the  trees.  They  say 
nothing,  but  each  feels  guilty  and  sad.  They  meet  their 
father  and  mother  with  clouded  hearts,  and  every  object  at 
all  connected  with  their  transgression,  awakens  the  remorse, 
which  destroys  their  happiness.  They  carry  thus  about 
with  them  a  weary,  and  a  heavy  burden. 

I  suppose  that  in  such  cases  most  boys  would  continue  to 
bear  this  burden,  until  at  last  they  became  insensible  to  it, 
i.  e.  until  conscience  becomes  seared.  But  though  by  habit  in 
sin,  the  stings  of  remorse  may  be  blunted,  yet  peace  never 
would  return.  By  repeating  transgression  a  great  many 
times  we  all  come  at  last  to  feel  a  general  and  settled  uneas- 
iness of  heart,  which  is  a  constant  burden.  Ask  such  an 
individual  if  he  is  unhappy.  He  tells  you  no.  He  means 
however  that  he  is  not  particularly  unhappy  just  at  that 
time.  His  burden  is  so  unform  and  consta7it,  that  he  comes 
to  consider  it  at  last  as  a  necessary  part  of  his  existence.  He 
has  lost  all  recollection  of  what  pure  peace  and  happiness  is. 
A  man  who  has  lived  long  by  a  waterfall,  at  last  becomes 
so  habituated  to  the  noise,  that  silence  seems  a  strange  luxu- 
ry to  him.  So  multitudes,  who  have  had  an  unquiet  con- 
science for  their  familiar  companion  for  many  years,  without 
a  single  interval  of  repose,  when  they  at  last  come  and  con- 
fess their  sins  and  find  peace  and  happiness,  are  surprised 
and  delighted  with  the  7ieiD  and  strange  sensation. 

This  peace  cannot  come  by  habit  in  sin.  A  seared  con- 
science is  not  a  relieved  one.  But  what  is  the  way  by 
which  peace  of  mind  is  to  be  restored  in  such  a  case  as  the 
above  ?  It  is  a  very  simple  way.  I  wish  it  was  more  gen- 
erally understood  and  practised  upon. 


16  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  boy's  confession.  His  conversation  with  his  father. 

Suppose  one  of  these  boys  should  say  to  hhnself,  some  day 
as  he  is  walking  alone,  "  I  am  not  happy,  and  I  have  not 
been  happy  snice  I  disobeyed  my  father  on  the  ice.  I  was 
very  foolish  to  do  that,  for  I  have  suffered  more  since  that 
time,  than  ten  times  as  much  pleasure  would  be  worth.  I 
am  resolved  to  go  and  confess  the  whole  to  my  father,  and 
ask  him  to  forgive  me,  and  then  I  shall  be  happy  again." 

Having  resolved  upon  this,  he  seeks  the  very  first  opportu- 
nity to  relieve  his  mind.  He  is  walking,  we  will  imagine, 
by  the  side  of  his  father,  and  for  several  minutes  he  hesitates 
— knowing  not  how  to  begin.  He  makes  however  at  last 
the  effort,  and  says  in  a  sorrowful  tone, 

"  Father,  I  have  done  something  very  wrong." 

"What  is  it  my  son'2" 

He  hesitates  and  trembles, — and  after  a  moment's  pause, 
says,  "  I  am  very  sorry  that  I  did  it." 

"  My  son,"  says  the  father,  "  I  have  observed,  for  a  day  or 
two,  that  you  have  not  been  happy,  and  you  are  evidently 
unhappy  now.  I  know  that  you  must  have  done  something 
wrong.  But  you  may  do  just  as  you  please  about  telling 
me  what  it  is.  If  you  freely  confess  it  and  submit  to  the 
punishment,  whatever  it  m?iy  be,  you  will  be  happy  again ; 
if  not,  you  will  continue  to  suffer.  Now  you  may  do  just  as 
you  please." 

"  Well,  father,  I  will  tell  you  all.  Do  you  remember  that 
you  gave  us  leave  to  go  upon  the  river  and  skate  the  other 
evening  ?" 

"  Yes." 

"  Well,  I  disobeyed  you,  and  went  upon  the  ice,  where 
you  told  us  not  to  go.  I  have  been  unhappy  ever  since,  and 
I  resolved  to-day,  that  I  would  come  and  tell  you  and  ask 
you  to  forgive  me." 

I  need  not  detail  the  conversation  that  would  follow.  But 
there  is  not  a  child  among  the  hundreds  and  perhaps  thous- 
ands, who  will  read  this  chapter,  who  does  not  fully  under- 
stand, that  by  such  a  confession,  the  boy  will  relieve  himself 
of  his  burden,  restore  peace  to  his  mind,  and  go  away  from 
his  father  with  a  light  and  happy  heart.  He  will  no  more 
dread  to  meet  him,  and  to  hear  the  sound  of  his  voice.  He 
can  now  be  happy  with  his  sister  again,  and  look  upon  the 
beautiful  stream  winding  in  the  valley,  without  feeling  his 
heart  sink  within  him  under  a  sense  of  guilt, — while  all  the 
time,  perhaps,  his  brother,  who  would  i^ot  cope  and  iac- 


CONFESSION.  IT 


Confession  of  little  faults.  The  torn  letter. 

knowledge  his  sin,  has  his  heart  still  darkened,  and  his 
countenance  made  sad  bj  the  gloomy  recollection  of  unfor- 
given  sin  1  Yes,  confession  of  sin,  has  an  almost  magic 
power  in  restoring  peace  of  mind. 

Providence  seems  to  have  implanted  this  principle  in  the 
human  heart,  for  the  express  purpose  of  having  us  act  upon 
it.  He  has  so  formed  us,  that  when  we  have  done  wrong, 
we  cannot  feel  at  peace  again,  until  we  have  acknowledged 
our  wrong,  to  the  person  against  whom  it  was  done.  And 
this  acknowledgement  of  it  removes  the  uneasiness  as  effec- 
tually as  fire  removes  cold,  or  as  water  extinguishes  fire.  It 
operates  in  all  cases,  small  as  well  as  great,  and  is  infallible 
in  its  power.  And  yet  how  slowly  do  young  persons  and 
even  old  persons  learn  to  use  it.  The  remedies  for  almost 
every  external  evil,  are  soon  discovered  and  are  at  once  ap- 
plied ;  but  the  remedy  for  that  uneasiness  of  mind  which  re- 
sults from  having  neglected  some  duty  or  committed  some 
sin,  and  which  consists  in  simple  confession  of  it  to  the  per- 
son injured, — how  slowly  is  it  learned  and  how  reluctantly 
practised. 

I  once  knew  a  boy  who  was  entrusted  with  a  letter  to  be 
carried  to  a  distant  place.  On  his  way,  or  just  after  his  ar- 
rival, in  attempting  to  take  the  letter  out  of  his  pocket  sud- 
denly, he  tore  it  completely  in  two.  He  was  in  consterna- 
tion. What  to  do  he  did  not  know.  He  did  not  dare  to 
carry  the  letter  in  its  mangled  condition,  and  he  did  not  dare 
to  destroy  it.  He  did  accordingly  the  most  foolish  thing  he 
could  do ; — he  kept  it  for  many  days,  doubting  and  waiting, 
and  feeling  anxious  and  unhappy,  whenever  it  came  in  his 
sight.  At  last  he  thought  that  this  was  folly,  and  he  took 
his  letter,  carried  it  to  the  person  to  whom  it  was  addressed, 
saying, 

"  Here  is  a  letter  which  I  was  entrusted  with  for  you,  and 
in  taking  it  out  of  my  pocket,  I  very  carelessly  tore  it  in 
two.     I  am  sorry  for  it,  but  I  have  no  excuse." 

The  receiver  of  the  letter  said,  it  was  no  matter,  and  the 
boy  went  home  suddenly  and  entirely  relieved. 

My  reader  will  say.  Why  this  was  a  very  simple  way  of 
getting  over  the  difficulty.  Why  did  not  he  think  of  it  be- 
fore? 

I  know  it  was  a  simple  way.     The  whole  story  is  so  sim- 
ple, that  it  is  hardly  dignified  enough  to  introduce  here,  but 
it  is  true,  and  it  exactly  illustrates  the  idea  I  am  endeavor- 
*2 


18  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN". 

The  anonymous  letter.  Reparation  compared  with  confession. 

ino"  to  enforce  here,  viz.,   that  in   little  things^  as  well  as  in 
great  things,  the  confession  of  sin  restores  peace  of  mind. 

I  will  now  mention  one  other  case  which  illustrates  the 
same  general  truth,  but  which  is  in  one  respect  very  strik- 
ingly different  from  all  the  preceding. 

A  merchant  was  one  morning  sitting  in  his  counting 
room,  preparing  for  the  business  of  the  day,  when  his  boy 
entered  with  several  letters  from  the  Post  Office.  Among 
them  was  one  in  a  strange  hand-writing  and  with  the 
words,  "  Mo7iey  enclosedj^  written  upon  the  outside.  As  the 
merchant  was  not  at  that  time  expecting  any  money,  his 
attention  was  first  attracted  to  this  letter.  He  opened  it  and 
read  somewhat  as  follows : 

,  Jan.  4,  1831. 

"Sir— 

"  Some  time  ago  I  defrauded  you  of  some  money.  You 
did  not  know  it  then,  and  I  suppose  you  never  would  have 
known  it,  unless  I  had  informed  you.  But  I  have  had  no 
peace  of  mind,  since  it  was  done,  and  send  you  back  the 
money  in  this  letter.  Hoping  that  God  will  forgive  this 
and  all  my  other  sins, 

I  am. 

Yours, 


I  remarked  that  this  case  was  to  be  totally  different  from 
all  the  others  in  one  respect.  Reader,  do  you  notice  the 
difference  ?  It  consists  in  this,  viz.,  that  here  not  only  was 
the  sin  confessed  but  reparation  was  made.  The  man  not 
only  acknowledged  the  fraud,  but  he  paid  back  the  money. 
And  if  any  of  my  readers  are  but  little  acquainted  with  hu- 
man nature,  they  may  perhaps  imagine,  that  it  was  the  re- 
paration,  and  not  the  confession  which  restored  peace  of 
mind.  But  I  think  I  can  show  very  clearly,  that  making 
reparation  is  not  effectual.  Suppose  this  man,  instead 
of  writing  the  above  letter,  had  just  come  into  the  store  and 
asked  to  buy  some  article  or  other,  and  in  paying  for  it,  had 
managed  dexterously  to  put  in  the  hands  of  the  clerk,  a  lar- 
ger sum  than  was  due,  so  as  to  repay,  without  the  mer- 
chant's knowledge,  the  whole  amount  of  which  he  had 
defrauded  him.  Do  you  think  this  would  have  restored  his 
peace  of  mind  ?  No,  not  even  if  he  had  thus  secretly  paid 
back  double  what  he  had  unjustly  taken.     It  was  the  con- 


CONFESSION.  19 


Confesssion  of  great  crimes.  Punishment. 

fession;  the  acknowledgement  of  having  done  wrong,  which 
really  quieted  his  troubled  conscience,  and  gave  him  peace. 

It  is  not  probable,  that  this  confession  was  sufficient  to 
make  him  perfectly  happy  again, — because  it  was  incom- 
plete. The  reparatio7i,  was  perfect,  but  the  achioidedge- 
ment  was  not.  The  reader  will  observe  that  the  letter  has 
no  name  signed  to  it,  and  the  merchant  could  not  by  any 
means  discover,  who  was  the  writer  of  it.  Now  if  the  man 
had  honestly  told  the  whole — if  he  had  written  his  name 
and  place  of  residence,  and  described  fully  all  the  circum- 
stances of  the  original  fraud,  he  would  have  been  much 
more  fully  relieved.  All  confession  which  is  intended  to 
bring  back  peace  of  mind  when  it  is  gone,  should  be  open 
and  thorough.  There  are,  indeed,  many  cases  where,  from 
peculiar  circumstances  in  such  a  case  as  this,  it  is  not  the 
duty  of  the  individual  to  give  his  name.  This,  however, 
does  not  affect  the  general  principle,  that  the  more  full  and 
free  the  confession  is  the  more  perfect  will  be  the  restoration 
of  peace. 

So  strongly  is  this  principle  fixed  by  the  Creator  in  the 
human  heart,  that  men  who  have  committed  crimes  to  which 
the  laws  of  the  land  annex  the  most  severe  public  punish- 
ments, after  enduring  some  time  in  secrecy,  the  remorse 
which  crime  almost  always  brings,  have  at  last  openly  come 
forward,  and  surrendered  themselves  to  the  magistrate, — 
and  acknowledged  their  guilt, — and  have  felt  their  hearts 
relieved  and  lightened,  by  receiving  an  ignominious  public 
punishment,  in  exchange  for  the  inward  tortures  of  remorse. 
Even  a  murderer  has  been  known  to  come  forw^ard  to  relieve 
the  horrors  of  his  soul,  by  confession, — though  he  knows  that 
this  confession  will  chain  him  in  a  dark  stone  cell,  and  after 
a  short,  but  gloomy  interval,  extend  him  in  a  coffin. 

Myreader,  you  can  try  the  power  of  confession,  and  enjoy 
the  relief  and  happiness  it  will  bring,  without  paying  such  a 
fearful  price  as  this ; — but  these  cases  lead  me  to  remark 
upon  one  other  subject  connected  with  confession.  I  mean 
punishmemt.  Sometimes,  as  I  before  remarked,  when  a  per- 
son confesses  some  wrong,  he  brings  himself  under  the  neces- 
sity of  repairing  the  injury  done,  and  at  other  times  of  sub- 
mitting to  'punishment.  Parents,  sometimes,  forgive  their 
children  w^hen  they  have  done  wrong,  if  they  will  only  con- 
fess it ;  and  though  this  ought  sometimes  to  be  done,  there  is 
yet  great  danger  that  children,  in  such  cases,  will  soon  ac- 


20  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Story  of  boys  on  the  ice  continued.  To  parents  and  teachers. 

quire  a  habit  of  doing  wrong-,  and  then  coming  to  confess  it 
with  a  careless  air,  as  if  it  was  not  of  much  consequence,  or 
rather  as  if  confessing  the  sin  destroyed  it,  and  left  them  per- 
fectly innocent. 

I  should  think,  on  this  account,  that  the  father  whose 
sons  had  disobeyed  him  on  the  ice,  would  be  much  at  a  loss 
to  know  what  to  do,  after  one  of  his  boys  had  so  frankly  ac- 
knowledged It.  I  can  suppose  him  saying  to  his  son,  "  Well 
my  son,  I  am  glad  you  have  told  me  freely  all  about  this. 
You  did  very  wrong,  and  1  am  very  much  at  a  loss  to  know 
what  I  ought  to  do.  I  will  consider  it  and  speak  to  yow,  by 
and  by,  about  it.  In  the  mean  time  you  may  be  assured, 
that  I  forgive  you  from  my  heart,  and  if  I  should  conclude 
to  do  any  thing  farther,  it  will  not  be  because  I  am  now 
displeased,  but  because  I  wish  to  save  you  effectually  from 
the  suffering  of  doing  wrong  in  future." 

When  the  father  is  left  alone  to  muse  by  himself  upon  the 
subject,  we  may  imagine  him  to  be  thinking  as  follows. 

"  Well,  I  should  not  have  thought  that  my  boys  would 
have  broken  their  promise  and  disobeyed  me.  I  wonder  if 
my  eldest  boy  disobeyed  also.  The  youngest  only  spoke  of 
himself — shall  I  ask  him  ? — No.  Each  shall  stand  on  in- 
dependent ground.  If  the  other  sinned  too,  he  too  may  come 
voluntarily  and  obtain  peace  by  confession,  or  he  must  con- 
tinue to  bear  the  tortures  of  self-reproach.  And  now  if  I 
take  no  farther  notice  of  the  transgression,  which  is  already 
acknowledged,  I  am  afraid  that  my  son  will  the  next  time 
yield  more  easily  to  temptation,  thinking  that  he  has  only 
to  acknowledge  it  to  be  forgiven.  Shall  I  forbid  their  skat- 
ing any  more  this  winter  ? — or  for  a  month  ? — or  shall  I  re- 
quire them,  every  time  they  return,  to  give  me  an  exact 
account  of  where  they  have  been  ? — I  wish  I  could  forgive 
and  forget  it  entirely,  but  I  am  afraid  I  ought  not." 

Thus  he  would  be  perplexed :  and  if  he  was  a  wise  parent, 
and  under  the  influence  of  moral  principle,  and  not  of  mere 
parental  feeling,  he  would  probably  do  something  more  than 
merely  to  pass  it  by.  The  boy  would  find  that  confession 
to  such  a  father  is  not  merely  nominal, — that  it  brings  -with 
it  inconvenience,  or  deprivation  of  enjoyment,  or  perhaps 
positive  punishment.  Still  he  would  rejoice  in  the  opportu- 
nity to  acknowledge  his  sins ;  for  the  loss  of  a  little  pleasure, 
or  the  suffering  of  punishment,  he  would  feel  to  be  a  very 
small  price  to  pay  for  returning  peace  of  mind,  and  he  would 


CONFESSION.  21 


Confession  a  privilege.  Depression  of  spirits.  Its  remedy. 

fly  to  confession,  as  a  refuge  from  self-reproach,  whenever  he 
had  done  wrong. 

Let  the  parents  or  the  teachers  who  may  read  this  take 
this  view  of  the  nature  of  confession,  and  practice  upon  it  in 
their  intercourse  with  their  children  and  then-  pupils.  Let 
them  meet  them  kindly,  when  they  come  forward  to  ac- 
knowledge their  faults.  Sympathize  with  them  in  the  strug- 
gle, which  you  know  they  must  make  at  such  a  time,  and 
consider  how  strong  the  temptation  was  which  led  them  to 
sin.  And  in  every  thing  of  the  nature  of  punishment  which 
you  inflict,  be  sure  the  'prevention  of  future  guilt,  is  yowY  sole 
motive,  and  not  the  gratification  of  your  own  present  feeling 
of  displeasure.  If  this  is  done,  those  under  your  care  will 
soon  value  confession  as  a  'privilege,  and  will  often  seek  in 
it  a  refuge  from  inward  suffering. 

Yes,  an  opportunity  to  acknowledge  wrong  of  any  kind, 
is  a  great  privilege,  and  if  any  of  my  readers  are  satisfied, 
that  wiiat  I  have  been  advancing  on  this  subject  is  true,  I 
hope  they  will  prove  by  experiment  the  correctness  of  these 
principles.  Almost  every  person  has  at  all  times  some  little 
sources  of  uneasiness  upon  his  mind.  They  are  not  very 
well  defined  in  their  nature  and  cause,  but  still  they  exist, 
and  they  very  much  disturb  the  happiness.  Now  if  yr\u 
look  within,  long  enough,  to  seize  hold  of,  and  examine  these 
feelings  of  secret  uneasiness,  you  will  find  that,  in  almost 
every  case,  they  are  connected  with  something  'wrong  which 
you  have  done.  That  anxious  brow  of  yours  then  is  clouded 
with  remorse ; — we  call  it  by  soft  names,  as  care,  solicitude^ 
perplexity, — but  it  is  generally  a  slight  remorse, — so  weak 
as  not  to  force  its  true  character  upon  your  notice,  but  yet 
strong  enough  to  destroy  peace  of  mind.  A  great  deal  of 
what  is  called,  depression  of  spirits,  arises  from  this  source. 
There  are  duties,  which  you  do  not  faithfully  discharge,  or 
inchnations,  which  you  habitually  indulge,  which,  you  know, 
ought  to  be  denied.  Conscience  keeps  up,  therefore,  a  con- 
tinual murmur,  but  she  murmurs  so  gently,  that  you  do  not 
recognise  her  voice, — and  yet  it  destroys  your  rest.  You  feel 
restless  and  unhappy,  and  wonder  what  can  be  the  cause. 

Let  no  one  now  say  or  even  suppose,  that  I  think,  that  all 
the  depression  of  spirits,  which  exists  in  human  hearts  is 
nothing  but  a  secret  sense  of  conscious  guilt.  I  know,  that 
there  is  real  solicitude  about  the  future,  unconnected  with  re- 
morse for  the  past ; — and  there  is  often  a  sinking  of  the  spirits 


22  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Careless  confession.  Anecdote.  Piinishinent. 

in  disease,  which  moral  remedies  will  not  touch.  These 
cases  are,  however,  comparatively  few.  A  far  greater  pro- 
portion of  the  restlessness  and  of  the  corrodmg  cares  of  hu- 
man hearts  are  produced,  or  at  least  very  much  exaggerated 
by  bemg  connected  with  guilt. 

I  suppose  some  of  my  readers  are  going  over  these  pages 
only  for  amusement.  They  will  be  interested,  perhaps,  in 
the  illustrations,  and  if  of  mature  or  cultivated  minds,  in  the 
point  to  which  I  am  endeavoring  to  make  them  tend.  I  am 
afraid,  however,  that  there  are  few  who  are  reading  really 
and  honestly  for  the  sake  of  moral  improvement.  To  those 
few,  however,  I  would  now  say :  Do  you  never  feel  unquiet 
in  spirit,  restless  or  sad  ?  Do  3'ou  never  experience  a  secret 
uneasiness  of  heart,  of  which  you  do  not  know  the  exact 
cause,  but  which  destroys,  or  at  least  disturbs  yom  peace  ? 
If  you  do,  take  this  course.  Instead  of  flying  from  those 
feelings  when  they  come  into  your  heart,  advance  boldly  to 
meet  them.  Grasp  and  examine  them.  Find  their  cause. 
You  will  find,  in  nine  instances  out  of  ten,  that  their  cause  is 
something  icrong  in  youx  own  conduct  or  character.  Young 
persons  will  generally  find  something  wrong  towards  their 
parents.  Now  go  and  confess  these  faults.  Do  not  endeav- 
0  ••  to  palliate  or  excuse  them,  but  endeavor  on  the  other  hand 
to  see  their  worst  side,  and  if  you  confess  them,  freely  and 
fully,  and  resolve  to  sin  no  more,  peace  will  return,  at  least, 
so  far  as  these  causes  have  banished  it  from  your  heart. 

After  I  had  written  thus  far,  I  read  these  pages  to  a  gen- 
tleman who  visited  me,  and  he  remarked  that  before  I  clos- 
ed the  chapter,  I  ought  to  caution  my  readers  against  ac- 
quiring the  habit  of  doing  wrong  and  then  coming  carelessly 
to  confess  it,  without  any  real  sorrow,  as  though  the  ac- 
knowledgement atoned  for  the  sin  and  wiped  all  the  guilt 
away. 

'  I  was  once,'  said  he,  '  visiting  in  a  family,  and  while  we 
were  sittinir  at  the  fire,  a  little  boy  came  in  and  did  some 
wanton,  wilful  mischief. 

'  "  Why  my  child,"  said  the  mother,  "  see  what  you  have 
done.  That  was  very  wrong  ; — but  vou  are  sorry  for  it  I 
suppose.     Are  you  not?" 

'"Yes  Ma',"  said  the  boy  carelessly,  mnning  awa}^  at 
the  same  time  to  play. 

Yes,"  said  the  mother,  "  he  is  sorry.  He  does  wrong 
sometimes,  but  then  he  is  always  sorry  for  it  and  acknow- 
ledges it.     You  are  sorry  now,  are  you  not  my  son. 


CONFESSION.  23 


An  experiment.  Story  of  the  dulled  tool, 

'  "  Yes  Ma',"  said  the  boy,  as  he  ran  capering  about  the 
room,  striking  the  furniture,  and  his  Httle  sister  with  his 
whip.' 

My  friend  thought  there  was  some  danger,  that  this  sort 
of  confession  might  be  made.  And  it  is  undoubtedly  often 
made.  But  it  does  no  good.  Confession  must  come  from 
the  heart,  or  it  will  not  relieve  the  heart. 

This  anecdote  shows  the  necessity  of  some  punishment  in 
all  governments.  If  a  father  forgives  the  disobedience  of 
his  children  smiply  upon  their  confessing  it ; — I  mean  if  he 
makes  this  his  settled  and  regular  course,  his  children  will 
soon  disobey,  expecting  to  make  peace  by  confession  as  a 
matter  of  course,  and  the  confession  will  thus  not  only  be- 
come an  useless  form,  but  will  become  the  very  lure,  which 
tempts  them  to  sin.  A  teacher  once  made  a  rule  that  if  any 
irregularity  occurred  in  any  of  the  classes,  the  assistant,  who 
heard  the  class  was  to  send  the  person  to  him.  At  first,  the 
pupils  felt  this  very  much.  A  scholar  would  come  with 
tears  in  her  eyes  to  acknowledge  her  fault,  although  it  was 
perhaps  only  a  very  slight  one.  The  teacher  inflicted  no 
punishment,  but  asked  them  to  be  careful  in  future,  and  sent 
them  away  kindly.  Soon,  however,  they  began  to  feel  less 
penitent  when  they  had  done  wrong.  They  came  more  and 
more  as  a  matter  of  form,  until  at  last  they  would  come  and 
state  their  fault,  as  carelessly,  as  if  they  were  merely  giving 
their  teacher  a  piece  of  indifferent  information.  No ; — con- 
fession must  never  be  understood  as  making  any  atonement 
for  sin.  Whenever  you  acknowledge  that  you  have  done 
wrong,  do  it  with  sincere  penitence, — and  with  a  spirit, 
which  would  lead  you  to  make  all  the  reparation  in  your 
power,  if  it  is  a  case  which  admits  of  reparation, — to  submit 
to  the  just  punishment,  if  any  is  inflicted, — and  always  to 
resolve  most  firmly,  that  you  will  sin  no  more. 

Let  all  my  readers,  then,  whether  old  or  young,  look  at 
once  around  them  and  seek  diligently  for  every  thing  wrong, 
which  they  have  done  towards  their  fellows,  and  try  the  ex- 
periment of  acknowledging  the  wrong  in  every  case,  that 
they  may  see  how  much  such  a  course  will  bring  peace  and 
happiness  to  their  hearts.  When,  however,  I  say  that  every 
thing  wrong  ought  to  be  acknowledged,  I  do  not  mean  that 
it  is,  in  every  case,  necessary  to  make  a  for  mi  I  confession  in 
language.  Acknowledgements  may  be  made  by  actions^  as 
distinctly  and  as  cordially  as  by  words.  An  example  will 
best  illustrate  this. 


24  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Story  continued.  Confession  lo  God. 

A  journeyman  in  a  carpenter's  shop  borrowed  a  plane  of 
his  comrade,  and  in  giving  it  back  to  him,  thej^  dropped  it 
and  dulled  it.  The  lender  manitained,  that  the  borrower 
ought  to  sharpen  it,  while  the  borrower  said,  that  it  was  not 
his  fault,  and  an  angry  controversy  arose  between  them.  It 
would  have  taken  but  a  few  minutes  to  have  sharpened  the 
instrument,  but  after  having  once  contended  about  it,  each 
was  determined  not  to  yield.  The  plane  was  laid  down  in 
its  damaged  state,  each  declaring,  that  he  would  not  sharp- 
en it. 

The  borrower,  however,  did  not  feel  easy,  and  as  he  lay 
down  that  night  to  rest,  the  thought  of  his  foolish  contention 
made  him  unhappy.  He  reflected  too,  that  since  his  friend 
had  been  willing  to  lend  him  his  instrument,  he  ought  to 
have  borne,  himself,  all  the  risk  of  its  return.  He  regretted 
that  he  refused  to  do  what,  now  on  cool  reflection,  he  saw 
was  clearly  his  duty. 

On  the  following  morning,  therefore,  he  went  half  an  hour 
earlier  than  usual  to  the  shop,  and  while  alone  there,  with 
the  help  of  grindstone  and  hone,  he  put  the  unfortunate  plane 
into  the  best  possible  order, — laid  it  in  its  proper  place, — and 
when  his  companion  came  in  he  said  to  him  pleasantly, 

"  I  wish  you  would  try  your  plane,  and  see  how  it  cuts 
this  morning." 

Now  was  not  this  a  most  full  and  complete  acknowledge- 
ment of  having  been  wrong  ?  And  yei  there  is  not  a  sylla- 
ble of  confession  in  language.  Any  way,  by  which  you 
can  openly  manifest  your  conviction  that  you  have  been 
wrong,  and  your  determination  to  do  so  no  more,  is  sufficient. 
The  mode  best  for  the  purpose  w411  vary  with  circumstances. 
Sometimes  by  words,  sometimes  by  writing,  and  sometimes 
by  action.  The  only  thing  that  is  essential  is,  that  the  heart 
should  feel  what  in  these  various  ways  it  attempts  to  express. 

I  doubt  not  now,  but  that  many  of  my  readers,  who  have 
taken  up  this  book  with  a  desire  to  find  religious  instruction 
in  it,  have  been  for  some  time  wishing  to  have  me  come  to 
the  subject  of  the  confession  of  sin  to  God.  You  feel,  that 
the  greatest  of  all  your  transgressions  have  been  against 
Him ;  and  you  can  have  no  tme  peace  of  mind  again,  until 
He  has  forgiven  you.  I  have  no  doubt  that  this  is  the  state 
of  mind  of  very  many  of  those  who  will  road  this  chapter. 
But  confession  of  sin  is  the  same  in  its  nature  and  tendency 


CONFESSION.  25 


Confession  to  God.  Anxiety  unnecessary.  Common  mistakes. 

when  made  to  God  as  when  made  to  your  fellow  man. 
When  you  have  finished  this  chapter  then,  shut  the  book, 
and  go  alone  before  your  Maker,  and  acknowledge  all  your 
sins.  Acknowledge  them,  frankly  and  fully,  and  try  to  see 
and  feel  the  worst,  not  by  merely  calling  your  offences  by 
harsh  names,  but  by  calmly  looking  at  the  aggravating  cir- 
cumstances. While  you  do  this,  do  not  spend  your  strength 
in  trying  to  feel  strong  emotion.  You  cannot  feel  emotion 
by  merely  trying  to.  There  is  no  need  of  anj^  terror, — no 
need  of  agony  of  body  or  of  mind, — no  need  of  gloom  of 
countenance  or  anxiety  of  heart.  Just  go  and  sincerely  ac- 
knowledge your  sins  to  God  and  ask  him  to  forgive  you 
through  Jesus  Christ,  and  he  will. 

But  perhaps  some  one  of  you  may  say,  "  I  am  surprised  to 
hear  you  say  that  there  is  no  need  of  strong  agitation  of  mind, 
before  we  can  be  forgiven  for  sin.  I  am  sure  that  there  often 
is  very  strong  feeling  of  this  kind.  There  is  terror,  and  ago- 
ny of  mind,  and  afterwards  the  individual  becomes  a  sincere 
Christian." 

It  is  true.  There  is  sometimes  strong  and  continued  agi- 
tation, but  it  is  only  because  those  who  suffer  it  are  unwilling 
to  yield  to  God  and  confess  their  sins  to  him.  As  soon  as 
this  unwillingness  is  gone  and  they  come  to  their  God  and 
Saviour  with  all  their  hearts,  the  mental  suffering  vanishes. 
I  said,  that  if  you  were  willing  now  to  confess  your  sins  to 
God  with  sincere  penitence,  you  may  at  once  be  happy. 
Of  course,  if  jqm  are  unwilling, — if  you  see,  that  you  are 
sinning  against  him  and  will  not  come  and  make  peace,  you 
then  have  indeed  cause  to  tremble. 

There  is  a  great  mistake,  prevalent  on  this  subject,  espe- 
cially among  the  young,  though  the  subject  is  often  clearly 
enough  explained,  both  from  the  press  and  the  pulpit.  God's 
command  is,  recent  at  once,  and  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  and  you  shall  have  peace.  I  have  in  this  chapter 
used  the  word  confess,  instead  of  repent,  for  sincere  confession 
is  only  a  manifestation  of  penitence.  Now  I  do  not  find  that 
the  Bible  requires  any  thing  previous  to  repentance.  It  does 
not  say  that  we  must  be  miserable  a  week  or  a  day  or  an 
hour.  I  never  heard  any  minister  urge  upon  his  hearers  the 
duty  of  suffering  anguish  of  mind,  and  all  the  horrors  of  re- 
morse a  single  moment  in  order  to  prepare  the  sioul  for  Christ. 
It  is  doubtless  true,  that  persons  do  often  thus  suffer,  and  are 
perhaps  led  by  it  in  the  end  to  fly  to  the  refuge.  BiU  they 
3 


26  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Immediate  repentance.  Salvation  by  Christ. 

ought  to  have  fied  to  the  refuge  without  this  suffering,  in  the 
beginning.  The  truth  is,  that  God  commands  men  every 
where  to  repent.  It  is  a  notorious  fact,  that  the}'-  will  not 
comply.  When  the  duty  of  humbly  confessing  their  sins  to 
God  is  clearly  brought  before  them,  there  is  often  so  great  a 
desire  to  continue  in  sin,  that  a  verj^  painful  struggle  con- 
tinues for  some  time.  Now  this  struggle  is  all  our  own 
fault, — it  is  something  that  ice  add,  altogether ; — God  does 
not  require  it.  He  says  come  to  me  at  once.  Ministers  in 
the  pulpit  do  not  urge  it ;  so  far  from  desiring  it  are  the}^ 
that  they  always  urge  their  hearers  to  come  at  once  to 
the  Saviour  and  be  happy, — and  when  an}^  of  their  hear- 
ers, are  suifering  in  consequence  of  their  indecision,  the 
pastor  so  far  from  wishing  them  to  continue  in  this  state, 
as  a  part  of  their  duty,  urges  them  with  all  his  power,  to 
terminate  it  at  once,  by  giving  up  their  hearts  to  God  and 
to  happiness.  And  yet  so  reluctant  are  men  to  give  up  their 
hearts  to  God,  and  so  exceedingly  common  is  this  guilty 
struggle,  that  by  the  young,  it  is  often  considered  as  a  'pain- 
ful part  of  duty.  They  think,  they  cannot  become  Christ- 
ians without  it.  Some  try  to  awaken  it  and  continue  it, 
and  are  sad  because  they  cannot  succeed.  Others  are  serv- 
ing their  Maker  endeavoring  to  grow  in  grace  and  to  prepare 
for  heaven,  but  they  feel  but  little  confidence  in  his  sympa- 
thy or  affection  for  them,  because  just  before  the}^  concluded 
to  yield  to  God,  sin  did  not  make  such  violent  and  desperate 
efforts  in  their  hearts,  as  in  some  others,  to  retain  its  hold. 

No,  my  reader,  there  is  no  need  of  any  struggle  or  cf  any 
suffering.  If  this  chapter  has  led  you  to  be  wilhng  to  con- 
fess your  sins,  you  may  confess  them  now,  and  from  this  mo- 
ment be  calm  and  peaceful  and  happ3^ 

My  readers  will  recollect,  that  I  mentioned  in  the  early 
part  of  this  chapter,  two  points  connected  with  confession, 
viz.  reparation  and  punishment.  In  confessing  sins  to  God, 
we  have  no  reparation  to  him  to  make,  and  no  punishment  to 
suffer.  We  have  a  Saviour,  and  we  fly  to  him.  He  makes 
reparation,  and  he  has  already  suffered  for  us.  We  must 
come  tmsting  in  him.  I  hope  very  many  of  my  readers  will 
see  that  both  duty  and  happiness  urge  them  to  take  the  sim- 
ple course  I  have  endeavored  to  describe  and  illustrate,  and 
that  they  will  now  take  it, — and  follow  me  through  the  re- 
maining chapters  of  this  book,  with  hearts  bent  on  loving 
and  serving  God. 


CHAPTER     IL 


THE    FRIEND. 


"  To  whom  shall  we  go  ?'* 


Story  of  the  Infaut  School.  The  new  scholar. 

There  is  a  very  excellent  infant  school  in  one  of  the  chief 
towns  of  Switzerland,  where  many  young  children  are  col- 
lected under  the  care  of  a  most  kind  and  faithful  superintend- 
ant  and  assistant,  to  receive  moral  and  intellectual  instruction. 
Whenever  a  new  pupil  is  admitted,  she  looks  with  fear  and 
trembling  upon  the  strange  scene  before  her.  A  large  open 
room  is  filled  with  the  children  standing  in  rows  or  collected 
in  busy  groups,  and  in  the  pleasant  play  ground,  verdant 
with  grass  and  trees,  many  others  are  seen  full  of  activity 
and  happiness. 

It  is  the  custom  whenever  a  new  scholar  enters  the  school 
for  the  teacher  to  collect  all  the  children  in  the  great  room, 
— extendmg  them  in  a  line  around  it,  and  then  he  walks  into 
the  midst,  leadnig  the  little  stranger  by  the  hand,  and  some- 
thing like  the  following  conversation  ensues. 

Teacher.  "  Here  is  a  Httle  girl,  who  has  come  to  join  our 
school.  She  is  a  stranger  and  is  afraid.  Will  you  all  prom- 
ise to  treat  her  kindly." 

Pwpils.     (All  answering  together.)     "  Yes  Sir,  we  will." 

Teacher.  "  She  has  told  me  that  she  will  try  to  be  a  good 
girl  and  to  do  her  duty,  but  sometiimes  she  will  forget,  I  am 
afraid,  and  sometimes  she  will  yield  to  temptation  and  do 
wrong.  Now  which  of  the  older  children  will  be  her  little 
friend,  to  be  with  her  for  a  few  days,  till  she  becomes  ac- 
quainted with  the  school,  and  tell  her  what  she  ought  to  do, 
and  help  her  to  watch  herself,  that  she  may  avoid  doing 
wrong  % 


28  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  protector  appointed.  Qualifications. 

Several  voices  at  once.     "  I  will,  I  will,  Sir." 

The  teacher  then  selects  from  those  who  thus  volunteer, 
one  of  the  best  and  oldest  children,  and  constitutes  her  the 
friend  and  protector  of  the  stranger.  Thej  are  together 
wherever  thej  go.  A  strong  mutual  attachment  springs  up 
between  them.  If  the  stranger  is  injured  in  anj  way,  the 
protector  feels  aggrieved  : — kindness  shown  to  one  touches 
almost  as  effectually  the  other, — and  thus  the  trembling 
stranger  is  guided  and  encouraged  and  led  on  to  duty  and  to 
strength  by  the  influence  of  her  protector, — though  that  pro- 
tector is  only  another  child. 

We  all  need  a  'protector,  especially  in  our  moral  interests. 
The  human  heart  seems  to  be  formed  to  lean  upon  something 
stronger  than  itself  for  support.  We  are  so  surrounded  with 
difficulties  and  temptations  and  dangers  here,  that  we  need 
a  refuge  in  which  we  can  trust.  Children  find  such  a  pro- 
tector and  such  a  refuge  in  their  parents.  How  much  safer 
you  feel  in  sickness,  if  your  father  or  your  mother  is  by  your 
bedside.  How  often,  in  a  summer  evening,  when  a  dark, 
heavy  cloud  is  thundering  in  the  sky,  and  the  window  ghtters 
with  the  brightness  of  the  lightning,  do  the  children  of  a 
family  sigh  for  their  father's  return,  and  feel  relieved  and 
almost  safe,  when  he  comes  among  them.  But  when  man 
is  mature,  he  can  find  no  earthlj^  protector.  He  must  go 
alone,  unless  he  has  a  friend  above.    , 

A  protector  and  friend  ought  to  possess  two  distinct  quali- 
fications, which  it  is  very  difficult  to  find  united.  He  ought 
to  be  our  superior  in  knowledge  and  'power,  so  that  we  can 
confide  in  his  protection,  and  yet  he  ought  to  be  in  the  same 
circumstances  with  ourselves,  that  he  may  understand  and 
appreciate  our  trials  and  difficulties. 

Now  my  object  in  this  chapter  is  to  endeavor  to  show  my 
readers,  that  they  need,  and  that  they  can  have,  just  such  a 
protector  and  friend.  One  that  has  power  to  save  to  the  ut- 
termost, and  yet  one  that  knows  by  his  own  experience,  all 
your  little  trials  and  cares.  I  know  that  if  any  of  yow  go 
and  confess  your  sins  to  God,  and  begin  a  life  of  piety  now, 
that  you  ^vill,  without  aid  from  above,  wander  away  into 
sin — forget  your  resolutions, — displease  God  more  than  ever, 
and  more  than  ever  destroy  your  own  peace  of  mind.  I  wish 
therefore,  to  persuade  all  those,  who  desire  hereafter  to  do 
their  duty,  to  come  now  and  unite  themselves,  in  indissoluble 


THE    FRIEND.  29 


Power  and  sympailiy.  Story  of  the  sailor  boy. 

bonds,  with  the  moral  protector  and  friend,  whose  character 
I  am  about  to  describe. 

In  the  epistle  to  the  Hebrews,  2nd  chapter  and  16th  verse, 
there  occurs  the  following  remarkable  passage ; — "  For 
verily  he,"  i.  e.  Christ,  "  took  not  on  him  the  nature  of  angels, 
but  he  took  on  him  the  seed  of  Abraham.  Wherefore  in  all 
things  it  behoved  him  to  be  made  like  unto  his  brethren,  that 
he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high  priest  in  things 
pertaining  to  God."  Here  you  see  how  the  difficulty,  which 
I  named  above  is  surmounted.  Our  powerful  Protector  came 
to  this  earth,  lived  here  thirty  years,  tasted  of  every  bitter 
cup,  which  we  have  to  drink,  in  order  that  he  might  know 
by  experience  all  our  trials  and  troubles,  and  be  able  more 
effectually  to  sympathize  with  us  and  help  us.  He  took  not 
on  him  the  nature  of  angels,  but  he  took  on  him  the  seed  of 
Abraham,  i.  e.  the  nature  of  man. 

I  wish  my  readers  would  pause  and  reflect  a  moment 
upon  these  two  elements  in  the  character  of  a  valuable  pro- 
tector,— viz.  yower  and  sympathy,  and  consider  how  seldom 
they  are  united.  I  will  give  one  or  two  examples  which 
may  help  me  to  illustrate  the  subject. 

A  mother  with  a  large  family,  and  but  slender  means  to 
provide  for  their  wants,  concluded  to  send  her  eldest  son  to 
sea.  She  knew  that,  though  the  toils  and  labors  of  a  sea- 
faring life  were  extreme,  they  could  he  home,  and  they  brought 
with  them  many  pleasures,  and  many  useful  results.  She 
agreed,  therefore,  with  a  Sea  Captain,  a  distant  relative  of 
hers,  to  admit  her  boy  on  board  his  ship.  The  Captain  be- 
came really  interested  m  his  new  friend — said  he  would  take 
good  care  of  him,  teach  him  his  duty  on  ship  board,  and  help 
him  on  in  the  world,  if  he  was  diligent  and  faithful.  The 
boy  looked  with  some  dread  upon  the  prospect  of  bidding 
farewell  to  his  mother,  to  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  his 
quiet  home, — to  explore  unknown  and  untried  scenes,  and  to 
encounter  the  dangers  of  a  stormy  ocean. 

He,  however,  bade  all  farewell,  and  was  soon  tossing  upon 
the  waters,  feeling  safe  under  his  new  protector.  He  soon 
found,  however,  that  the  Captain  had  poicer,  but  that  he  had 
not  sympathy.  He  would  sometimes,  in  a  stormy  night, 
when  the  masts  were  reeling  to  and  fro,  and  the  bleak  wind 
was  whistling  through  the  frozen  rigging,  make  him  go  aloft, 
though  the  poor  boy,  unaccustomed  to  the  giddy  height,  was 
in  an  agony  of  tenor,  and  in  real  danger  of  falling  headlong 
*3 


30  YOUNO    CHRISTIAN. 


Tlie  Captain's  want  of  sympathy.  The  little  ship. 

to  the  deck.  The  Captam  had  forgotten  what  were  his  own 
feehngs,  when  he  was  himself  a  boj,  or  he  would  probably 
have  taught  this  necessary  part  of  seamanship  in  a  more 
gentle  and  gradual  manner.  He  thought  the  boy  ought  to 
learn,  and  his  want  of  sympathy  with  his  feelings  led  him  to 
a  course  which  was  severe,  and  m  fact  cruel,  though  not  in- 
tentionally so.  The  captain  never  spoke  to  his  young  charge, 
excepting  to  command  him.  He  took  no  interest  m  his  lit- 
tle concerns.  Once  the  boy  spent  all  his  leisure  time  indus- 
triously in  rigging  out  a  little  ship,  complete.  "  This," 
thought  he,  "  will  please  the  captain.  He  wants  me  to  learn, 
and  this  will  show  him  that  I  have  been  learning."  As  he 
went  on,  however,  from  day  to  day,  the  Captain  took  no  no- 
tice of  his  work.  A  word  or  a  look  of  satisfaction  from  his 
protector  would  have  gratified  him  exceedingly.  But  no  : 
— the  stern,  weather-beaten  officer  could  not  sympathize 
with  a  child,  or  appreciate  his  feelings  at  all,  and  one  day 
when  the  boy  had  been  sent  away  from  his  work,  for  a  mo- 
ment, the  Captain  came  upon  deck,  and  after  looking  around 
a  moment,  he  said  to  a  rough  looking  man  standing  there, 
"  I  say.  Jack,  I  wish  you  would  clear  away  a  little  here, — coil 
those  lines, — and  that  boy's  bauble  there,  you  may  as  well 
throw  it  overboard, — he  never  will  make  anything  of  it." 

Commands  on  board  ship  must  be  obeyed;  and  the  poor 
cabin  boy  came  up  from  below  just  in  time  to  catch  the 
captain's  words,  and  to  see  his  little  ship  flly  from  the  sailor's 
hands  into  the  waves.  It  fell  upon  its  side, — its  sails  were 
drenched  with  the  water,  and  it  fast  receded  from  view.  The 
boy  went  to  his  hammock  and  wept  bitterly.  His  heart  was 
wounded  deeply,  but  the  stern  Captain  did  not  know  it.  How 
could  he  sympathize  with  the  feelings  of  a  child  ? 

And  yet  this  captain  was  the  real  friend  of  the  boy.  He 
protected  him  in  all  great  dangers, — took  great  care  of  him 
when  in  foreign  ports,  that  he  should  not  be  exposed  to  sick- 
ness, nor  to  temptation.  When  they  returned  home,  he  re- 
commended him  to  another  ship,  and  where,  through  the 
Captain's  influence  he  had  a  better  situation  and  higher 
wages, — and  he  assisted  him  in  various  ways  for  many  years. 
Now  this  boy  had  a  protector  who  had  pmvcr,  but  not  .sy77i- 
pathy. 

1  his  boy,  however,  might  have  had  a  friend,  who  would 
have  sympathized  with  him  fully,  but  who  would  have  had 
no  power.     I  might  illustrate  this  case  also,  by  supposing  in 


THE    FRIEND.  31 


The  Saviour.  His  thirty  years  of  life.  Howard. 

the  next  ship  which  he  should  enter,  that  the  Captain  should 
feel  no  interest  in  him  at  all,  but  that  he  should  have  with  him 
there  a  brother,  or  another  boy  of  his  own  age,  who  would  be 
his  constant  companion  and  friend, — entering  into  all  his  feel- 
ings, sympathiznig  with  him  in  his  enjoyments  and  in  his 
troubles, — but  yet  having  no  poumr  to  protect  him  from  real 
evils,  or  to  avert  any  dangers  which  might  threaten.  I  might 
have  supposed  such  a  case,  and  following  the  boy  in  imagi- 
nation into  the  new  scene,  I  might  show  that  sympathy  alone 
is  not  sufficient.  But  it  is  not  necessary  to  do  this.  All  lay 
readers,  doubtless,  already  fully  understand  the  distinction 
between  these  two,  and  the  necessity,  that  they  should  be 
united  in  such  a  protector  as  we  all  need. 

The  great  Friend  of  sinners  unites  these.  He  is  able  to 
save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  come  unto  God  through  him, 
and  he  can  fully  sympathize  with  us  in  all  our  trials  and 
cares,  for  he  has  been  upon  the  earth, — suffering  all  that  we 
have  to  suffer,  and  drinking  of  every  cup  which  is  presented 
to  our  lips.  He  became  flesh,  i.  e.  he  became  a  man,  and 
dwelt  among  us,  so  that  as  the  Bible  most  forcibly  and  beau- 
tifully expresses  it,  '  we  have  not  an  high  priest  which  can- 
not be  touched  with  a  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in 
all  points  tempted  like  as  we  are,  yet  without  sin.' 

It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  our  Saviour  did  not  com- 
mence his  public  ministrations  till  he  was  thirty  years  of  age. 
Thirty  years  he  spent — in  what  ?  Why,  in  learning  by 
slow  and  painful  experience,  lohat  it  is  to  be  a  human  being, 
in  this  world  of  trial.  Have  I  a  reader  who  is  only  ten  or 
twelve  years  of  age  ?  Remember  the  Saviour  was  once  as 
young  as  you, — exposed  to  just  such  little  difficulties  and 
trials  as  you  are.  He  has  gone  through  the  whole,  from  in- 
fancy upward,  and  he  does  not  forget.  You  may  be  sure, 
then,  that  he  will  sympathize  with  you.  If  any  thing  is 
great  enough  to  interest  you,  you  may  be  sure  it  is  great 
■  enough  to  interest  him  in  your  behalf  He  remembers  his 
own  childhool,  and  will  sympathize  with  the  feelings  of 
yours. 

This  plan  of  coming  into  this  world  and  becoming  one  of 
us, — and  remnining  in  obscurity  so  long, — that  he  might 
learn  by  experiment  what  the  human  condition  is,  in  all  its 
details,  was  cert  i inly  a  very  extraordinary  one.  It  is  spoken 
of  as  very  extr^o  dinary  every  where  in  the  Bible.  You 
have  all  heard  of  Howard  the  Philanthropist.     When  he 


32  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Story  of  Howard.  Imaginary  scene.  The  voluntary  prisoner. 

was  thirty  or  forty  years  of  age,  there  were,  every  where  in 
Europe,  jails  and  dungeons,  filled  with  wretched  prisoners, 
some  of  whom  were  guilty  and  some  innocent.  They  were 
crowded  together  in  small,  cold,  damp  rooms.  Their  food 
was  scanty  and  bad, — dreadful  diseases  broke  out  among 
them,  and  when  this  was  the  case,  they  were,  in  a  vast  mul- 
titude of  cases  left  to  suffer  and  to  die  in  unmitigated  agonj". 
Very  few  knew  their  condition,  and  there  were  none  to  pity 
or  relieve  them,  until  Howard  undertook  the  task.  He  left 
his  home  in  England  and  went  forth, — encountering  every 
difficulty  and  every  discouragement  until  he  had  explored 
thoroughly  this  mass  of  misery — and  brought  it  to  public 
view, — and  had  done  every  thing  which  the  case  admitted  to 
n^itigate  its  severity. 

This  was  extraordinary  enough,  and  it  attracted  universal 
attention.  All  Europe  Vv^as  surprised  that  a  man  should  de- 
vote years  of  life  to  a  most  arduous  and  hazardous  labor, 
exposing  himself  to  the  most  loathsome  influences  and  to  the 
worst  diseases,  without  any  prospect  of  remuneration,  and 
all  for  the  sole  purpose  of  relieving  the  sufferings  of  criminals, 
of  men,  whom  the  world  had  cast  off  as  unfit  for  human  so- 
ciety. It  was,  I  acknowledge,  extraordinary  ; — but  what 
would  have  been  the  sensation  produced  if  H^oward  could  not 
have  gained  admission  to  these  scenes,  so  as  effectually  to 
accomplish  his  object,  without  becoming  himself  a  prisoner, 
and  thus  sharing,  for  a  time,  the  fate  of  those  whom  he  was 
endeavoring  to  save.  Suppose  he  should  consent  to  this. 
Imagine  him  approaching  for  this  purpose  some  dreary  pri- 
son. He  passes  its  dismal  threshold,  and  the  bolts  and  bars 
of  the  gloomiest  dungeon  are  turned  upon  him.  He  lays 
aside  the  comfortable  dress  of  the  citizen  for  the  many  color- 
ed garb  of  confinement  and  disgrace.  He  holds  out  his  arm 
for  the  manacles,  and  lies  down  at  night  upon  his  bed  of 
straw,  and  lingers  away  months,  or,  perhaps,  years  of  wretch- 
edness, for  no  other  purpose  than  that  he  may  knoio  fully 
what  loretchechi.ess  is.  He  thus  looks  misery  in  the  face,  and 
takes  it  by  the  hand,  and  he  emerges  at  last  from  his  cell, 
emaciated  by  disease,  worn  out  by  the  gloom  of  perpetual 
night, — and  his  heart  sickened  by  the  atmosphere  of  sin  and 
shame.  Suppose  he  had  done  this,  how  strongly  could  he, 
after  it,  sympathize  with  the  sufferings  of  a  prisoner,  and 
how  cordially,  and  with  what  confidence,  can  the  inmates 
of  those  abodes  come  to  him  with  their  story  of  woe. 


THE    FRIEND.  33 


The  Saviour.  The  child's  little  difficulties.  Human  sympathy. 

Now  we  have  such  a  Saviour  as  this.  He  has  been  among 
us.  He  has  himself  experienced  every  trial  and  every  suf- 
fering which  we  have  to  endure.  So  that  if  we  choose  him 
for  our  friend,  we  m?iy  come  to  him  on  every  occasion,  sure  of 
finding  not  only  power  to  relieve  us,  but  sympatky,  to  feel  for 
us.  No  matter  what  may  be  the  source  of  our  trial,  whether 
great  or  small.  If  it  is  great  enough  to  interest  iis,  it  is  great 
enough  to  interest  him  for  us.  Perhaps  some  young  child, 
whoreads  this,  has  been  pained  to  the  heart  by  the  unkind- 
ness  of  some  one  in  whom  he  had  reposed  all  his  confidence. 
The  action  which  shewed  this  neglect  or  unkindness  was  so 
trifling,  that  perhaps  the  little  sufferer  feels  that  no  one  can 
sympathize  with  him  in  apparently  so  small  a  cause  of  sor- 
row. But  Jesus  Christ  was  once  as  young  a  child  as  you, 
he  too  doubtless  had  companions  and  friends,  and  if  he  did  not 
experience  unkindness  and  ingratitude  at  their  hands,  child- 
hood was  the  only  time  of  his  life,  in  which  he  was  free  from 
these  injuries.  He  doubiless  knows  them  full  well ;  and  there 
is  one  thing  in  which  the  sympathy  of  our  Saviour  differs 
from  that  of  every  other  friend.  He  judges  not  from  the 
magnitude  of  the  cause  of  sorrow, — but  from  the  real  effect 
of  that  cause  upon  the  heart  which  suffers  it.  A  child  is  per- 
plexed with  the  difficulties  of  simple  Division  in  school.  He 
tries  to  be  patient  and  quiet  in  spirit,  and  if  he  loves  the  Sav- 
iour, the  Saviour  w^ill  sympathize  with  him  just  as  much  in 
that  trial,  as  he  does  in  the  pei*plexity  of  the  merchant  plan- 
ning his  distant  voyages,  or  of  the  President  of  a  mighty  na- 
tion in  his  various  cares.  It  matters  not  with  our  great 
Friend,  whether  the  object  of  human  solicitude  is  a  plaything, 
a  fortune,  or  a  kingdom.  All  are  equally  trifles  in  themselves 
to  him.  All  that  he  looks  at  is  their  moral  poicer  over  the 
hearts  ichich  is  influenced  by  them.  If  a  child  is  agitated  by 
a  trifling  cause,  he  looks  at  the  greatness  of  the  agitation  and 
suffering, — not  at  the  insignificance  of  the  cause.  But  it  is 
not  so  with  men.  They  judge  from  external  circum.stances. 
Napoleon  Buonaparte  was  imprisoned  for  his  crimes  upon  an 
almost  solitary  island,  and  the  whole  civilized  world  looked 
upon  him  with  strong  compassion.  And  j^et  there  are  hun- 
dreds and  thousands  in  every  city  in  Europe,  who  suffer 
every  hour  far  more  than  he  did,  but  whose  anguish  of  spirit 
attracts  but  little  attention  because  it  arises  from  a  less  mag- 
nificent cause.  But  our  Redeemer  looks  at  the  heort  and 
estimates  its  feelings.     If  any  thing  interests  us,  therefore,  we 


34  ,  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  murderer's  cell.  Sympathy  for  the  guilty. 

need  never  fear  that  he  will  regard  it  too  insignificant  to 
interest  him. 

In  all  the  greater  trials  of  life,  I  mean  those  which  come 
from  greater  and  more  permanent  causes,  we  may  confidently 
expect  sympathy  and  fellow  feeling  if  we  come  to  the  Sav- 
iour. Does  poverty  threaten  you  ?  He  knows  what  poverty 
is  better  than  you, — for  years  he  knew  not  where  to  lay  his 
head.  Do  you  suffer  from  the  unkind  treatment  of  others  1 
He  has  tried  this  in  the  extreme,  and  can  fully  sympathize 
with  you.  Do  you  weep  over  the  grave  of  a  beloved  friend  ? 
Jesus  wept  from  this  cause  long  before  you.  In  fact,  he 
went  about  the  world,  not  only  to  do  good,  but  to  taste  of  suf- 
Jerhig,  that  he  might  know,  with  all  the  vividness  of  expe- 
rience, exactly  what  suffering,  in  all  its  variety,  is. 

We  all  love  sympathy  when  we  are  suffering, — but  there  is 
one  occasion  on  which  we  feel  the  need  of  it  still  more.  I 
mean  in  temptation.  We  need  sympathy  when  we  are  strug- 
gling with  temptation, — and  still  more,  when  we  have  done 
wrong,  and  are  reaping  its  bitter  fruits.  A  dreadful  murder 
was  once  committed,  which  aroused  the  alarm  and  indigna- 
tion of  an  extensive  community.  Every  one  expressed  the 
strongest  abhorrence  of  the  deed,  and  made  the  greatest  eflfort 
to  procure  the  arrest  and  punishment  of  the  criminal.  And 
this  was  right.  But  with  this  feeling  there  should  have  been, 
in  every  heart,  strong  compassion  for  the  miserable  criminal. 

He  was  arrested,  tried,  and  condemned  to  die  ;  and  a  few 
hours  before  the  execution  of  the  sentence  of  the  law,  I  went, 
with  a  clergyman  who  often  visited  him,  to  see  him  in  his 
cell. 

When  we  had  entered  his  gloomy  prison,  the  jailor  closed 
behind  us  its  massive  iron  door,  and  barred  and  locked  it. 
We  found  ourselves  in  a  spacious  passage  with  a  stone  floor, 
and  stone  walls,  and  stone  roof,  and  with  narrow  iron  doors 
on  each  side,  leading  to  the  cells  of  the  various  prisoners. 
We  ascended  the  stairs,  and  found  every  story  assuming  the 
same  rigid  features  of  iron  and  stone.  In  a  corner  of  the 
upper  story  was  the  cell  of  the  murderer. 

A  little  grated  window  opened  into  the  passage  way.  The 
Jailor  tapped  softly  at  the  window,  and  informed  the  prisoner, 
in  a  kind  and  irentle  tone,  that  the  clergyman  had  come. 

"  Should  you  like  to  have  us  come  in?"   asked  the  jailor. 

The  prisoner  instantly  assented,  and  the  jailor  unbolted 
and  unbarred  the  door.     "  Strano:e!"   thouc'ht  I.     "Here  is 


THE    FRIEND.  35 


The  keeper's  kindness  to  the  prisoner.  The  Saviour. 

a  man  who  has  outraged  the  laws  of  both  God  and  man,  and 
a  whole  community  has  arisen  in  justice,  and  declared  that 
he  is  unworthy  to  live,  and,  to-morrow,  by  the  hand  of  vio- 
lence, he  is  to  die.  And  yet  his  very  keeper  treats  him  so 
tenderly,  that  he  will  not  come  into  his  cell,  without  first  ob- 
taining permission  !" 

As  we  passed  through  the  narrow  aperture  in  the  thick 
stone  wall,  which  the  iron  door  had  closed,  the  whole  aspect 
of  the  room  and  of  the  prisoner,  was  one  which  eftectually 
removed  my  surprise  that  he  should  be  treated  with  kindness 
and  compassion.  He  was  pale  and  haggard,  and  he  trem- 
bled very  exceedinglj^  He  seemed  exhausted  by  the  agony 
of  remorse  and  terror.  A  few  hours  before,  his  wife  had  been 
in  his  cell,  to  bid  him  a  final  farewell,  and  the  next  day  he 
was  to  be  led  forth  to  execution  in  the  presence  of  thousands. 
In  the  mean  time,  the  walls,  and  floor,  and  roof  of  his  cell, — 
of  continued,  uninterrupted  stone  and  iron,  seemed  to  say  to 
him,  wherever  he  looked,  "  You  shall  nut  escape.'"  It  seem- 
ed as  if  the  ej^e  would  have  rested  with  a  feeling  of  relief, 
upon  a  board  or  a  curtain,  even  if  it  concealed  a  stone  be- 
hind,— with  so  forbidding,  and  relentless  a  gripe  did  this  dis- 
mal cell  seem  to  hold  its  unhappy  tenant.  As  I  looked  be- 
tween the  heavy  iron  bars  of  his  grated  window,  upon  the 
distant  plains  and  hills,  and  thought  how  ardently  he  must 
wish  that  he  were  once  more  innocent  and  free,  I  forgot  the 
cold  blooded  brutality  of  the  crime,  and  only  mourned  over 
the  misery  and  ruin  of  the  man. 

The  world  does,  in  some  cases,  sympathize  with  one,  suf- 
Tering  from  remorse  ;  but  generally,  men  are  indignant  with 
the  offender,  if  his  crime  is  great,  and  they  treat  him  with  rid- 
icule and  scorn  if  it  is  small.  Jesus  Christ,  however,  'pities 
a  sinner.  He  loved  us  while  we  were  yet  in  our  sins ;  he 
came  to  save  us.  He  forgot  our  deep  guilt,  and  only  sympa- 
thized with  us  in  our  suffering. 

This  disposition  of  our  Saviour,  to  look,  not  so  much  at  the 
guilt  which  we  have  incurred,  as  at  the  sufferings  into  which 
it  has  brought  us,  is  everry  where  very  apparent  in  his  whole 
history.  Often  the  greatest  sinners  came  to  him,  and  he 
never  reproached  them,  unless  they  came  in  pride  and  stub- 
bornness of  heart.  He  always  endeavored  to  relieve  them  of 
the  burden  of  guilt,  and  to  give  them  assurance  of  pardon  and 
peace.  On  one  occasion  how  kindly  does  he  say  to  a  very 
guilty  sinner,  "  I  do  not  condemn  thee,  go  and  sin  no  more." 


36  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  Saviour's  sympathy.  Common  distrust  of  it. 

Instead  of  intending  to  add  to  the  burden  of  guilt  by  exhibit- 
ing coldly  the  contrast  of  his  own  bright  example,  or  by  his 
severe  rebukes,  he  says,  "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and 
are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 

Persons  who  wish  to  be  saved  from  sin,  very  often  distrust 
the  Saviour's  willingness  to  receive  them.  They  acknow- 
ledge, in  general  terms,  his  kindness  and  compassion,  and 
think  that  he  is,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  willing  to  save  the 
chief  of  sinners,  but  they  think  there  is  somethnig  peculiar 
in  then-  case,  which  should  prevent  them  from  commg  to  him 
in  confideuce.  I  observed  that  this  peculiarity  is  almost  al- 
ways one  of  two  thmgs: — 1.  That  they  do  not  engage  ar- 
dently enough  in  the  work  of  salvation ;  or,  2.  That  they 
have  often  resolved  before,  and  broken  their  resolutions. 

Do  not  some  of  you,  my  readers,  feel  unwilling  to  come  to 
the  Saviour,  because  you  think  that  you  do  not  feel  a  suffi- 
cient interest  in  the  subject.  You  know  that  you  are  sin- 
ners, and  would  like  to  be  free  from  sin.  You  would  like 
such  a  friend  as  I  describe  the  Saviour  to  be,  but  3'ou  have  no 
sufficiently  strong  conviction,  and  you  think  the  promises 
are  not  for  you. 

Or,  perhaps,  some  of  you,  though  you  feel  a  deep  interest  in 
the  subject,  may  be  discouraged  and  disheartened  by  the  sins 
you  find  yourselves  constantly  committing,  and  by  your  re- 
peatedly broken  resolutions.  You  think  the  Saviour  must 
be  wearied  out  with  your  continual  backslidings  and  sins, 
and  you  are  ready  to  give  up  the  contest,  and  to  think  that 
final  holiness  and  peace  is  not  for  you. 

Now  there  are,  throughout  our  land,  vast  multitudes  who 
are  vainly  endeavoring  to  make  their  hearts  better,  in  order 
to  recomjiiend  themselves  to  their  Saviour's  care.  You 
must,  indeed,  endeavor  by  every  effiart,  to  make  your  heart 
better,  but  not  as  a  means  of  recommending  yourself  to  the 
Saviour.  Come  to  him  at  once,  just  as  you  are,  and  seek  his 
sympathy  and  assistance  in  the  work. 

Enr|uiicrs  after  the  ])ath  of  piety,  are  very  slow  to  learn 
that  tlie  Saviour  is  the  friend  of  sinners.  They  will  not  learn 
that  he  came  to  help  us  up  while  we  are  in  our  trials  and 
difficulties,  not  after  we  get  out  of  them.  How  many  say  in 
their  hearts,  I  must  overcome  this  sin,  or  free  myself  from  that 
temptation,  and  then  I  will  come  to  the  Saviour.  I  must 
have  clearer  views  of  my  own  sins,  or  deeper  penitence,  or 
awaken  true  love  to  God  in  mv  heart,  and  then,  but  not  till 


THE    FRIEND.  37 


Illustration.  Case  of  the  sick  man.  Jesus  Christ  a  physician. 

then,  can  I  expect  Christ  to  be  my  friend.  What  ?  do  you 
suppose  that  it  is  the  office  of  Jesus  Christ  to  stand  aloof  from 
the  stmgghng  sinner,  until  he  has,  by  his  own  unaided 
strength,  and,  without  assistance  or  sympathy,  finished  the 
contest,  and  then  only  to  come  and  otlier  his  congratulations 
after  the  victory  is  won.  Is  this  such  a  Saviour  as  you  im- 
agine the  Bible  to  describe  ? 

At  the  door  of  one  of  the  chambers  in  which  you  reside,  you 
hear  a  mourning  sound,  as  of  one  in  distress.  You  enter 
hastily,  and  find  a  sick  man,  writhing  in  pain,  and  struggling 
alone  with  his  suiferings.  As  soon  as  you  understand  the 
case,  you  say  to  him, 

"  We  must  send  for  a  physician  immediately,  there  is  one 
at  the  next  door,  who  will  come  in,  in  a  moment." 

"  Oh  no,"  groans  out  the  sufferer,  "  I  am  in  no  state  to  send 
for  a  physician.  My  head  aches  dreadfully — I  am  almost 
distracted  with  pain.     I  fear  I  am  very  dangerously  ill." 

"  Then  we  must  have  a  physician  immediately,"  you  reply, 
"  run,  and  call  him,"  you  say,  turning  to  an  attendant,  "  ask 
him  to  come  as  soon  as  possible." 

"  Oh,  stop !  stop  ■!"  says  the  sick  man,  "  wait  till  I  get  a 
little  easier; — my  breath  is  very  short,  and  my  pulse  very 
feeble,  and  besides  I  have  been  getting  worse  and  w^orse  ev- 
ery half  hour  for  some  time,  and  I  am  afraid  there  is  no 
hope  for  me.  Wait  a  little  while,  and  perhaps  I  may  feel 
better,  and  then  I  will  send  for  him. 

You  would  turn  after  hearing  such  words,  and  say  in  a 
gentle  voice  to  the  attendant.  "  He  is  wandering  in  mind. 
Call  the  physician  immediately." 

Now  Jesus  Christ  is  a  physician.  He  comes  to  heal  your 
sins.  If  you  wish  to  be  healed  come  to  him  at  once,  just  as 
you  are.  The  soul  that  waits  for  purer  motives,  or  for  a 
deeper  sense  of  guilt  or  for  a  stronger  interest  in  the  subject, 
before  it  comes  to  Christ  is  a  sick  person  waiting  for  health 
before  he  sends  for  a  physician.  Jesus  Christ  came  to  help 
you  in  obtaining  these  feelings,  not  to  receive  you  after  you 
have  made  yourself  holy  without  him.  You  have,  I  well 
know,  great  and  arduous  struggles  to  make  with  sin.  Just 
as  certainly  as  you  attempt  them  alone,  you  will  become  dis- 
couraged and  fail.  Come  to  the  Saviour-  before  you  l^egin 
them,  for  I  do  assure  you,  you  will  need  help. 

One  great  object  which  our  Saviour  had  in  view  in  re- 
4 


YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Strug;i^Iing  with  temptation.  The  benevolent  teacher. 

maining  so  long  in  the  world,  was  to  understand  our  tempt- 
ations, and  the  contests  which  they  bring  up  in  the  heart. 

It  is  very  often  the  case,  that  persons  are  struggling 
with  temptations  and  sms  almost  in  solitude,  and  those  to 
whom  thej^  are  directly  accountable  do  not  appreciate  the 
circumstances  m  which  they  are  placed,  and  the  efforts  they 
make  to  overcome  temptation.  I  presume  that  teachers  very 
often  blame  their  pupils  with  a  severity,  which  they  would 
not  use,  if  they  remembered  distinctly  the  feelings  of  child- 
hood. Perhaps  a  little  boy  is  placed  on  a  seat  by  his  inti- 
mate friend,  and  commanded  upon  pam  of  some  very  severe 
punishment  not  to  whisper.  He  tries  to  refrain,  and  succeeds 
perhaps  for  half  an  hour  in  avoiding  every  temptation.  At 
last  some  unexpected  occurrence  or  some  sudden  thought 
darts  iiito  his  mind, — his  resolutions  are  forgotten, — the  pres- 
ence of  the  master, — the  regulations  of  the  school  and  the 
special  prohibition  to  him,  all  flit  from  his  mmd,  and  after  the 
forbidden  act,  which  occupied  but  an  instant,  is  done, — he 
immediately  awakes  to  the  consciousness  of  having  diso- 
beyed, and  looks  up  just  in  time  to  see  the  stern  e^'e  of  his 
teacher  upon  him,  speaking  most  distinctly  of  displeasure 
and  of  punishment.  Now  if  any  severe  punishment  should 
follow  such  a  transgression  how  disproportionate  would  it  be 
to  the  guilt.  Suppose  the  hoy  may  indeed  have  done  wrong, 
— but  how  slight  must  the  wrong  be  in  the  view  of  any  one, 
who  could  look  into  the  heart  and  estimate  truly  its  moral 
movements  in  such  a  case.  It  is  unquestionably  true,  and 
everv  wise  teacher  is  fully  aware  of  it,  that  in  school  disci- 
pline there  is  constant  danger  that  the  teacher  will  estimate 
erroneously  the  moral  character  of  the  actions  he  witnesses, 
just  because  he  has  forgotten  the  feelings  of  childhood.  He 
cannot  appreciate  its  temptations  or  understand  its  difficul- 
ties, and  many  a  little  struggler  with  the  inclinations,  which 
would  draw  him  from  duty,  is  chilled  and  discouraged  in  his 
efforts,  because  the  teacher  never  knows  that  he  is  making 
an  effort  to  do  his  duty,  or  at  least  never  understands  the 
diff-r'iilties  and  trials,  which  he  finds  in  his  way. 

Suppose  now  that  such  a  teacher  should  say  to  himself, 
and  suppose  he  could  by  some  magic  power  carry  the  plan 
into  efiect, — '  I  will  become  a  Uttle  child  mj'self,  and  go  to 
school.'  I  will  take  these  same  lessons  which  I  assign,  and 
endeavor  to  keep  myself,  the  rules  which  I  have  been  en- 
deavoring to  enforce,     I  will  spend  two  or  three  weeks  in 


THE    FRIEND.  39 


The  teacher  imagined  to  become  a  scholar.  Howard. 

this  way,  that  I  may  learn  by  actual  experience  what  the 
difficulties  and  temptations  and  trials  of  childhood  are.'  Sup- 
pose he  could  carry  this  plan  into  effect,  and  laying  aside 
his  accumulated  knowledge,  and  that  strength  of  moral 
principle  which  long  habit  had  formed,  should  assume  the 
youth  and  the  spirits  and  all  the  feelings  of  childhood,  and 
should  take  his  place  in  some  neighboring  school,  unknown 
to  his  new  companions,  to  partake  with  them  in  all  their 
trials  and  every  temptation.  He  toils  upon  a  perplexing 
lesson,  that  he  may  know  by  experience  what  the  perplexity 
of  childhood  is.  He  obeys  the  strictest  rules,  that  he  may 
understand  the  difficulty  of  it,  and  he  exposes  himself  to  the 
unkindness  or  oppression  of  the  vicious  boys,  that  he  may 
learn  how  hard  it  is  patiently  to  endure  them.  After  fully 
making  the  experiment,  he  resumes  his  former  character,  and 
.returns  to  his  station  of  authority.  Now  if  this  were  done, 
'how  cordially,  how  much  better  can  he  afterwards  sympa- 
thize with  his  pupils  in  their  trials,  and  with  what  confidence 
(€an  they  come  to  him  in  all  their  cares. 

Now  we  have  such  a  Saviour  as  this.  The  word  was 
^made  flesh,  i.  e.  became  man  and  dwelt  among  us.  He  took 
jiot  on  him  the  nature  of  angels,  but  the  nature  of  man. 
"'  Wherefore  it  behoved  him  in  all  things  to  be  made  like  unto 
'his  brethren,  that  he  might  be  a  merciful  and  faithful  high 
priest J^  "  We  have  not  an  high  priest  that  cannot  be  touch- 
ed with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in  all  points 
tem.pted  like  as  we  are." 

My  reader  will  doubtless  observe,  that  this  case  is  some- 
what similar  to  that  of  Howard,  which  I  imagined  in  the 
former  part  of  this  chapter,  and  perhaps  you  may  imagine, 
that  if  my  paragraphs  had  been  well  arranged,  this  supposi- 
tion would  have  come  in  connection  with  that.  But  no.  I 
was  then  upon  the  subject  of  sympathy  with  suffering.  I 
imagined  Howard  to  become  a  prisoner,  that  he  might  un- 
derstand and  sympathize  with  the  sufferings  of  prisoners. 
Now  I  am  speaking  of  the  subject  of  temptation  and  strug- 
gle against  sin,  and  I  imagine  the  teacher  to  become  a  child 
that  he  iriay  appreciate  the  trials  and  temptations  of  child- 
hood. 

We  may  trust  in  the  sympathy  of  our  Saviour  in  this  last 
respect  as  well  as  in  the  other.  His  disposition  to  feel  com- 
passion and  sympathy,  and  not  indignation  at  those  who 
had  brought  themselves  into  difficulty  by  doing  wrong,  was 


40  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Sympathy  of  Christ.  The  bruised  reed. 

very  often  manifested  while  he  was  upon  the  earth,  and  we 
may  be  sure  Ills  character  is  not  in  this  respect  aUered  now. 

But  it  is  time  that  i  should  bring  this  chapter  to  a  close. 
The  sum  and  substance  of  what  I  have  been  endeavoring  to 
illustrate  in  it  is  this.  If  you  confess  all  your  sins  and  seek 
their  forgiveness  in  the  way  which  the  gospel  points  out, 
resolve  henceforth  to  lead  a  life  of  piety,  you  will  need 
a  friend  and  helper.  You  will  want  sympathy  both  in  your 
sufferings,  and  in  your  struggles  tcith  sin.  Jesus  Christ 
will  sympathize  with  you  and  help  you  in  both.  I  once 
knew  a  benevolent  gentleman  whose  fortune  rendered  him 
mdependent,  but  whose  medical  knowledge  and  skill  were 
of  a  very  high  order,  and  he  practised  constantly  without 
fee  or  reward,  for  the  simple  purpose  of  relieving  suffering. 
The  only  things  necessary  to  secure  his  attention,  were  to 
be  sick,  to  need  his  aid,  and  to  send  for  him.  He  did  not 
wish  his  patients  to  become  co7Lvalesce7it  before  he  would 
visit  them.  Nor  did  he  enquire  how  often  they  had  been 
sick  before.  There  was  one  poor  lad  who  took  cold  I  be- 
lieve by  breaking  through  the  ice  in  the  winter,  and  he  was 
rendered  a  helpless  cripple  for  years,  and  yet  this  gentleman 
or  some  of  his  family  visited  him  almost  daily  during  all  this 
time,  and  instead  of  getting  tired  of  their  patient  he  became 
more  and  more  interested  in  him  to  the  last.  Now  our  Re- 
deemer is  such  a  physician.  He  does  not  ask  any  prepara- 
tion before  we  send  for  him.  Nor  does  he  get  tired  of  us 
because  he  has  helped  us  back  from  our  wanderings  to  duty 
and  happiness  a  great  many  times.  Some  one  asked  him 
once,  how  often  he  ought  to  forgive  his  brother  after  repeat- 
ed transgressions.  "  Shall  I  forgive  him  seven  times?"  was 
the  question.  "Forgive,"  said  the  Saviour,  "not  only  seven 
times  but  seventy  times  seven."  How  strange  it  is  that  af- 
ter this,  a  backsliding  Christian  can  ever  hesitate  to  come 
back  at  once  after  he  has  wandered,  with  an  assurance  that 
God  will  forgive. 

He  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed.  How  beautiful  and 
striking  an  illustration  of  our  Redeemei-'s  kindness  to  those 
who  have  sinned.  A  planter  walks  out  into  his  grounds 
and  among  the  reeds  growing  there,  there  is  one — young, 
green  and  slender, — -which  a  rude  blast  has  broken.  Its 
verdant  top  is  drenched  in  the  waters  which  bathes  its  rootj 
and  perhaps  he  hesitates  for  a  moment  whether  to  tear  it 
from  the  spot  and  throw  it  away.     But  no.     He  raises  it  t,o 


PRAYEft.  41 


T^he  metaphor  of  the  bruised  reed.  Prayer.  The  absent  son. 

its  place,  carefully  adjusts  its  bruised  stem,  and  sustains  it 
hy  a  support  till  it  once  more  acquire  its  former  strength  and 
beauty.  Now  Jesus  Christ  is  this  planter.  Every  back- 
sliding; humbled  Christian  is  a  bruised  reed,  and  oh  how 
many  are  now  thriving  and  vigorous,  which  his  tenderness 
in  the  hour  of  humiliation  has  saved. 

Come,  then,  to  this  friend,  all  of  you.  Bring  all  your 
interests  and  hopes  and  fears  to  him.  He  will  sympathize 
in  them  all.  And  whenever  you  wander  never  hesitate  a 
moment  to  return. 


CHAPTER     III, 


*  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  in  my  name  he  will  do  it.' 

As  1  have  on  this  subject  many  separate  points  to  discuss, 
i  shall  arrange  what  I  have  to  say,  under  several  distinct 
heads,  that  the  view  presented  may  be  the  better  understood 
and  remembered. 

I.  The  poiuer  of  prayer.  This  subject  may  be  best  illus- 
trated by  describing  a  case. 

A  kind  and  affectionate  father,  whose  son  had  arrived  at 
an  age  which  rendered  it  necessary  for  him  to  prepare  for 
the  business  of  life,  concluded  to  send  him  from  home. 
Their  mutual  attachment  was  strong, — and  though  each 
knew  it  was  for  the  best,  each  looked  upon  the  approaching 
separation  with  regret.  The  father  felt  solicitous  for 
the  future  character  and  happiness  of  his  boy,  as  he  was 
now  to  go  forth  into  new  temptations  and  dangers, — and 
the  son  was  reluctant  to  leave  the  quiet  and  the  happiness  of 
his  father's  fireside,  for  the  bustle  of  business,  and  the  rough 
exposures  of  the  crowded  city,  where  he  was  for  the  future 
to  find  a  home.  The  hour  of  separation  however  at  last 
arrived,  and  the  father  says  to  him  at  parting. 
*4 


42  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 


The  lather's  promii^es.  Its  implied  limitations.  Improper  requests. 

"  My  son,  be  faithful;  do  your  duty:  and  you  will  be 
happy.  Remember  3^our  parents — the  eftbrts  they  have 
made,  and  the  aft'ection  they  now  feel  for  you.  Watch 
against  tem])tation,  and  shun  it.  I  will  supply  all  youi 
wants.  When  you  wish  for  anything  write  to  me  and  you 
shall  have  it.  And  may  God  bless  you  and  keep  you  safe 
and  happy." 

My  reader  will  observe,  that  this  language,  which  is  not 
fiction,  but  fact,  for  it  has  in  substance  been  addressed  in  a 
thousand  instances,  under  the  circumstances  above  described, 
contains  a  promise  to  send  the  son  ichatever  he  shall  ask  for. 
But  the  meaning  of  it  is  not, — and  no  boy  w^ould  under- 
stand It  to  be, — that  every  possible  request  which  he  might 
make  would  be  certainly  granted.  Although  the  promise 
is  made  in  the  few  simple  words,  "  whenever  you  want  any- 
thing, w^rite  me  and  you  shall  have  it,"  yet  the  meaning  ex- 
pressed fully  would  be,  "  whenever  you  wish  for  anjnhing, 
which,  as  far  as  you  can  see  is  proper  for  you,  if  you  wall 
let  me  know  it,  I  will  send  it,  unless  I  see  that  it  is  better 
for  you  not  to  have  it,  or  unless  there  are  other  special  rea- 
sons which  prevent  my  complying." 

There  are  a  great  many  ways  in  w^hich  such  a  boy's  re- 
quests might  be  refused,  and  the  father  would  not  be  con- 
sidered by  any  person  as  breaking  his  promise. 

1.  He  may  ask  something  which  the  father  knows  would 
in  the  end  injvyre  him.  Suppose  he  should  request  his  father 
to  supply  him  with  double  his  usual  quantity  cf  pocket 
money,  and  the  father  should  see  clearly  that  the  efiect  of 
granting  the  request,  would  be  to  cultivate  in  him  careless 
and  extravagant  habits  of  expenditure,  and  to  divert  his  at- 
tention from  his  business.  In  such  a  case  the  father  would 
undoubtedly  refuse,  and  no  one  would  imagine,  that  he  was 
breaking  his  promise.  The  boy,  if  he  had  done  right  would 
not  have  asked. 

2.  He  may  ask  something  which,  if  granted,  would  intcr- 
ftre  with  the  rights  or  happiness  of  others.  There  was  a  watch, 
we  will  imagine,  hanging  up  in  his  father's  house,  used  by  all 
the  family, — the  only  timepiece  accessable  to  them.  Now  sup- 
posing the  boy,  growing  selfish  and  vain,  and  thinking  that 
his  importance  among  his  comrades  w^ould  be  a  little  in- 
creased by  a  watch,  should  v\rite  to  his  father  to  send  that 
to  him.  Who  would  think,  that  his  father  would  be  obliged 
to  comply  on  account  of  his  parting  promise  to  his  son  to 
supply  all  his  wants?     Christians  very  often  make  such 


i>RAYElt.  43 


Requests  in  an  improper  manner.       The  ielter.       Our  Saviour's  promise. 

selfish  requests,  and  wonder  why  their  prayers  are  not  heard. 
A  farmer  who  has  one  held  which  needs  watering  will  pray 
for  rain,  with  great  earnestness,  forgetting,  that  God  has  to 
take  care  of  the  ten  thousand  fields  all  around  his  own,  and 
that  perhaps,  they  need  the  sun.  A  mother  who  has  a  son 
at  sea,  will  pray  for  prosperous  winds  for  him,  forgetting 
that  the  ocean  is  whitened  with  sails,  all  under  God's  care, 
and  that  the  breeze  which  bears  one  onward  must  retard 
another.     But  more  on  this  subject  presently. 

3.  He  may  ask  in  an  improper  manner.  Suppose  the 
father  should  take  from  the  post  office  a  letter  in  his  son's 
hand  writing,  and  on  breaking  the  seal,  should  read  as  follows. 

"  Dear  Father, — 

You  must  let  me  come  home  next  week  to  Christmas.     I 
wanted  to  come  last  year,  but  you  would  not  let  me,  and  now 
/  must  come.     I  want  you  to  write  me  immediately,  and  send 
it  back  by  the  driver,  telling  me  I  may  come. 
I  aiPx  your  dutiful  son, 


Who  would  think  that  a  father  ought  to  grant  a  request 
made  in  such  a  way  as  this.  It  is  to  be  feared,  that  Christ- 
ians sometimes  bring  demands  instead  of  requests  to  God. 

I  have  mentioned  now  three  cases  in  which  the  father  might, 
without  breaking  his  promise,  refuse  the  requests  of  his  boy. 
Where  it  would  be  injurious  to  him,  unjust  to  others,  or  where 
the  request  is  made  in  an  improper  manner.  All  promise? 
of  such  a  sort  as  this  are  universally  considered  as  liable  to 
these  exceptions. 

Our  Saviour  tells  us,  "  Whatsoever  3'e  shall  ask  the  Fa- 
ther in  my  name  he  will  doit."  This  is  common  language; 
such  as  men  address  to  men,  and  is  to  be  understood  exactly 
in  the  same  way, — in  just  such  a  sense  and  with  just  such 
exceptions.  The  language  means,  if  it  is  honestly  used, 
that  one  of  our  requests  will,  in  ordinary  cases,  have  a  real 
influence  with  the  Creator,  in  regard  to  things  entirely  Ids* 
yond  our  control.  It  must  mean  that,  generally,  all  our 
proper  requests  will  be  granted.  At  the  same  time  it  must 
be  liable  to  the  exceptions  above  stated,  which  apply  in  all 
similar  cases.  God  must  reserve  the  right  to  deny  our  requests, 
when  they  are  made  in  an  improper  spirit,  and  when  they 
ask  what  would  injure  us,  or  interfere  with  the  general  good. 


44  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Prayers  denied.      Power  of  prayer.      Granting- requests  in  anolher  form. 

If  any  of  you  have,  in  accordance  with  the  views  I  pre- 
sented in  the  two  preceding  chapters  confessed  your  past 
sins,  and  chosen  Jesus  Christ  for  your  friend,  you  will  take 
great  pleasure  in  bringing  your  requests  to  God.  And  you 
may,  in  donig  this,  sometimes  pray  for  success  in  some  en- 
terprize  when  God  sees,  that  it  is,  on  the  whole,  best  that 
you  should  fail.  A  man  may  ask  that  God  will  place  him 
in  some  iiliportant  station  of  influence  or  usefulness,  when  the 
eye  that  can  see  the  whole,  discovers  that  the  general  good 
will  be  promoted  by  another  arrangement.  Thus  in  many 
similar  ways,  your  prayers,  may  sometimes  come  within  the 
excepted  cases,  and  then  God  will  not  grant  them.  These 
cases,  however,  you  will  generally  avoid,  and  in  a  vast  major- 
ity of  instances  your  praj'ers  will  be  heard.  .        . 

There  is  even  among  Christians  a  great  deal  of  distmst  of 
the  power  of  prayer.  Some  think  it  exerts  a  good  influence 
upon  their  own  hearts  to  pray  and  thus  they  continue  the 
practice,  without,  however,  having  any  very  cordial  belief, 
that  the}^  are  really  listened  to  and  granted  as  requests,  by  the 
great  Jehovah.  Many  persons  imagine,  that  prayer  has  an 
eflicacy  in  some  such  way  as  this.  A  man  asks  God  to 
protect  and  bless  him  in  his  business.  By  oflfering  the  pray- 
er every  day,  he  is  reminded  of  his  dependance,  he  thinks  of 
the  necessitj^  of  his  own  industrj^  and  patient  effort,  and  thus, 
through  the  influence  of  his  prayer,  the  causes  of  prosperity 
are  brought  to  operate  more  fully  in  his  case,  and  prosperity 
comes. 

But  this  is  not  granting  a  request.  This  natural,  inevi- 
table consequence  of  the  petition,  as  an  exercise  of  the  man's 
mind,  is  not,  and  cannot  honestly  be  considered  as  God's 
granting  the  request.  '  Whatsoever  ye  shall  ask  the  Father  he 
shall  do  it.'  The  Father  shall  do  it.  This  is  a  promise  that 
God  shall  do  something  which  we  ask  him  to  do, — not  that 
the  natural  effect  of  our  asking  will  be  favorable  in  its  influ- 
ence upon  us. 

There  is  another  way  in  which  it  seems  to  me  there  is  a 
great  deal  of  want  of  faith  in  God  in  regard  to  the  efficacy  of 
prayer.  It  is  often  said  that  requests  may  not  be  granted  in  the 
precise  form  in  which  they  were  offered,  but  that  they  are  al- 
ways answered  in  some  way  or  other.  A  mother,  for  instance, 
who  has  a  son  at  sea,  prays  morning  and  evening  for  his  safe 
return.  Letter  after  letter  comes  assuring  her  of  his  continued 
safety,  until  at  last  the  sad  news  arrives  that  his  ship  has 


PRAYER, 


45 


The  boy  asking  for  a  knife.  The  sick  man  unexpectedly  cured. 

been  dashed  upon  a  rock  or  sunk  in  the  waves.  Now  can  it 
be  said  that  the  mother's  prayer  was  granted.  Suppose  that 
she  was,  by  this  afflicting"  providence,  weaned  from  the  world 
and  prepared  for  heaven,  and  thus  inconceivably  benefitted  by 
the  event.  Was  this  in  any  common  or  correct  use  of  language, 
granting  the  request  in  another  form,  or  was  it  denying  it  be- 
cause it  was  inconsistent  with  her  greatest  good  1  Suppose 
a  child  asks  his  father  to  let  him  keep  a  knife  he  has  found, 
and  the  father  takes  it  away,  knowing,  that  he  will  probably 
injure  himself  with  it.  Is  this  granting  his  request  in  an- 
other form  ?  No.  We  ought  whenever  the  particular  re- 
quest we  make  is  not  granted  to  consider  it  a  denial,  and  to 
suppose  that  it  comes  under  one  of  the  cases  of  exceptions,  I 
have  already  specified. 

There  is,  indeed,  such  a  thing  as  granting  a  request  in  an- 
other form,  from  that  in  which  it  was  made.  A  family,  one 
of  whose  members  is  m  feeble  health,  prays  for  that  member, 
that  God  would  restore  him.  They  come  sincerely  and  ear- 
nestly to  the  throne  of  grace,  and  ask  God  to  spare  his  life  and 
make  him  well.  Instead,  however,  of  growing  better,  he 
grows  suddenly  worse.  He  is  attacked  with  violent  sickness, 
and  his  friends  think  that  their  prayer  cannot  be  heard,  and 
suppose  that  they  must  follow  him  to  the  grave.  The  sick- 
ness however  soon  passes  away,  and  instead  of  canying  him 
to  the  tomb,  by  means  of  some  mysterious  influence  which  is, 
in  such  cases,  often  exerted  upon  the  constitution,  he  rises  from 
his  sick  bed  with  renewed  bodily  powers,  and  as  his  strength 
gradually  returns,  he  finds  that  his  constitution  is  renewed  and 
health  entirely  restored.  Now  this  is  granting  the  request,  ho- 
csiuseihe  thirig  requested, th.Ri  is  the  restoration  to  health  is  ob- 
tained, but  the  manner  was  unexpected  ;  but  if  the  man  should 
die,  no  matter  what  great  benefits  to  all,  resulted  from  his 
death.  It  is  certainly  not  right  to  say  that  the  request  was 
granted  in  any  way.  It  was  denied,  because  God  saw  it 
was  best,  that  it  should  be  denied. 

Let  us  then  keep  constantly  in  view  the  fact,  that  our  pe- 
titions are  and  must  be  often  denied, — positively  and  abso- 
lutely refused.  The  lansruage  which  our  Saviour  uses, 
though  without  any  specified  exceptions,  contains  the  excep- 
tions that  in  all  human  language,  are,  in  all  such  cases  im- 
plied. The  feelings,  however,  which,  in  this  view  of  the 
subject,  we  ought  to  cherish,  may  properly  be  presented  un- 
der the  following  head. 


46  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Submissive  spirit.  Prayers  of  the  young.  The  packet. 

II.  A  submissive  spirit  in  prayer.  We  ought  unquestion- 
ably to  bring  a  great  many  requests  to  God,  relating  to  our  daily 
pursuits.  We  ought  to  express  to  him  our  common  desires,  ask 
success  in  our  common  enterprizes  and  plans.  Young  persons, 
it  seems  to  me,  ought  to  do  this  far  more  than  they  do.  They 
ought  to  bring  all  their  little  interests  and  concerns,  morning 
and  evening,  to  their  friend  above.  Whatever  interests  you,  as  I 
have  already  once  or  twice  remarked,  will  interest  him.  Bring 
to  him  freely  your  little  troubles  and  cares,  and  express  your 
wants.  If  the  young  cannot  come  to  God  with  their  own 
appropriate  and  pecidiar  concerns,  they  are  in  reality  with- 
out a  protector.  If  however  we  are  in  the  habit  of  bringing 
all  our  wants  to  God,  we  shall  often  ask  for  something,  which 
it  is  far  better  for  us  not  to  have.  We  cannot  always  judge 
coiTectly,  But  unless  we  know  that  what  we  ask  is  danger- 
ous, or  that  it  will  be  injurious  it  is  proper  to  ask  for  it.  If  we 
do  or  might  know,  to  request  it  would  be  obviously  wrong. 
David  praj^ed  very  earnestly  that  his  child  might  live,  but 
God  thought  it  not  best  to  grant  the  petition.  David  did  right 
to  pray,  for  he,  probably,  did  not  know  but  that  the  request 
might  be  safely  granted  Let  us  feel,  therefore,  when  we  come 
with  our  petitions,  that  perhaps  God  will  think  it  best  for  us 
that  they  should  be  denied. 

This  is  peculiarly  the  case  in  praying  for  deliverance  from 
danger.  Our  hearts  may  be  relieved  and  lightened  hj  com- 
mitting ourselves  to  God's  care,  but  we  can  never  feel  on  that 
account,  sure  that  we  are  safe.  God  very  often  makes  sick- 
ness, or  a  storm  at  sea,  or  the  lightning,  or  any  other  source 
of  common  danger  and  alarm,  the  means  of  removing  a 
Christian  from  the  world.  You  do  not  know  but  that  he 
will  remove  you  you  in  this  way.  The  next  time  a  thunder 
storm  arises  in  the  west,  it  may  be  God's  design  to  bring  one 
of  its  terrific  bolts  upon  your  head,  and  you  cannot  of  course 
avert  it,  by  simply  asking  God  to  spare  you.  He  will  listen 
to  your  prayer,  take  it  into  kind  consideration,  and  if  you  ask 
in  a  proper  spirit,  he  will  probably  give  you  a  calm  and  hap- 
py heart  even  in  the  most  imminent  danger.  But  you  can- 
not be  sure  that  you  will  be  safe.  The  ground  of  your  peace 
must  be,  that  God  will  do  what  is  best,  not  that  he  will  cei- 
tainly  do  what  you  wish. 

From  one  of  the  small  sea  port  towns  of  New  England  a 
packet  once  set  sail  for  Boston.  These  packets,  which  are 
intended  to  carry  passengers,  have  ope  large  cabin.      The 


PRAYER.  47 


Description  of  the  packet.  The  calm.  The  Christian  traveller. 

berths,  (which  perhaps  I  ought  to  inform  some  of  my  younger 
readers,  are  a  sort  of  large  shelves,  upon  which  passengers  at 
sea  sleep,  one  above  the  other,)  are  arranged  around  this  cabin, 
and  a  moveable  partition,  which  can  be  thrown  open  by  day 
divides  the  room  at  night  into  two  parts.  On  board  one  of  these 
packets,  then,  a  few  years  ago,  a  number  of  persons,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  previously  entn-e  strangers  to  each  other,  found 
themselves  slowly  sailing  out  of  an  eastern  harbor  on  a  coast- 
ing voyage  of  about  two  hundred  miles.  They  did  not  know 
how  long  they  were  to  be  together, — what  adventures  might 
befal  them,  or  what  dangers  they  might  share.  They  were, 
however,  to  spend  their  time  in  the  same  room,  and  as  they 
were  tossing  upon  the  waves  in  the  same  vessel,  a  sense  of 
common  interest,  and  of  common  danger,  brought  them  at 
once  to  terms  of  intimacy. 

The  next  morning,  there  was  scarcely  a  breath  of  air. 
Tlie  vessel  heaved  gently  on  the  water,  whose  surface  was 
polished  like  glass,  though  it  swelled  and  sunk  with  the  un- 
dulations of  distant  storms.  In  the  tedium  of  waiting  for 
wind,  each  one  of  the  passengers  and  crew  amused  him- 
self in  his  own  way.  Here  you  might  see  a  cluster  talk- 
ing,— there  two  or  three  passengers  gathering  around  a  sai- 
lor, who  was  letting  down  his  line  for  fish.  Others  in 
various  places  had  their  books. 

A  Christian  traveller  who  was  present  sat  down  upon  the 
quarter  deck,  and  opened  a  little  bundle  of  books  and  news- 
papers and  tracts,  which  he  had  provided  for  the  occasion. 

Presently  a  gentleman  who  had  been  sitting  for  half  an 
hour  gazing,  for  want  of  other  employment,  upon  every  sprig 
of  sea  weed  or  floating  bubble  he  could  see,  advanced  to  him, 
and  asked, 

"  Will  you  lend  me  something  to  read  ?" 

"  Certainly,  sir,  anything  I  have.  I  do  not  know  that 
they  will  be  interesting  to  you,  most  of  mv  stock  here  is  of 
a  religious  character,  and  I  do  not  know  whether  you  will 
take  any  interest  in  it." 

The  gentleman  replied  that  he  should.  He  selected  a 
newspaper  or  a  tract,  took  his  seat  again  and  began  to  read. 
Pxesently  a  lady  made  the  same  request — others  looked  as 
though  they  wished  to,  but  hesitated.  Our  traveller  observ- 
ing this  said  to  all  within  hearing, 

"  If  any  others  of  the  company  would  like  anything  I 
have,  I  should  be  happy  to  have  them  take  it.     I  always 


48  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Books  and  Iracls.  The  long-  passage.  The  approaching  storm. 

carry  a  supply  of  reading,  when  I  travel,  though  I  select  my 
books  perhaps  too  much,  to  suit  my  own  taste  alone.  What 
I  have  here  is  chiefly  of  a  religious  character,  and  it  may  not 
be  so  generally  interesting  on  that  account.  You  are  heartily 
welcome  to  ixny  of  these,  however,  if  you  please.  It  is  rath- 
er dull  sitting  here  with  nothing  to  do." 

The  books  and  tracts  were  soon  generally  in  circulation, 
the  passengers  were  nearly  all  busy  in  reading  them  and  the 
time  passed  swiftly  away.  Our  traveller  became  known  as 
a  Christian,"  and  were  I  now  upon  the  subject  of  Christian 
influence,  I  might  describe  many  interesting  occurrences 
which  took  place,  the  Christian  acquaintances  which  he 
formed,  and  the  conversations  he  had  wilh  various  persons 
on  board  the  vessel.  But  I  am  going  so  much  into  detail 
in  this  story,  that  I  fear  3^ou  have  almost  lost  sight  of  our 
subject,  which  is  the  duty  of  praying  to  God  with  the  feel- 
ing, that  he  will  after  all,  do  as  he  pleases  about  granting 
the  request.     I  must  hasten  to  the  conclusion  of  my  story. 

The  passage  was  an  uncommonly  long  one.  They  hoped 
to  reach  their  port  in  two  days,  but  after  ten  had  passed 
away  they  were  still  far  from  Boston,  night  was  coming  on, 
and  what  was  still  worse,  the  captain,  who  stood  anxiously 
at  the  helm,  said  there  were  signs  of  an  approaching  storm. 
A  dark  haze  extended  itself  over  the  whole  southern  sky. 
The  swell  of  the  sea  increased.  The  rising  wind  moaned  in 
most  melancholy  tones  through  the  rigging.  The  captain 
gave  orders  to  take  in  sail,  to  make  everything  snug  about 
the  vessel,  and  had  supper  prepared  earlier  than  usual,  "be- 
cause," said  he,  "  I  expect  from  the  looks  of  the  sky  yonder, 
that,  an  hour  hence,  you  will  not  manage  a  cup  of  tea  very 
handily." 

The  passemrers  ate  their  supper  in  silence.  Their  hearts 
were  full  of  foreboding  fears.  The  captain  endeavored  to 
enco\irage  them.  He  said  that  they  were  not  far  from  Bos- 
ton. He  hoped  soon  to  see  the  light.  If  they  could  make 
out  to  get  into  the  harbor  before  it  began  to  blow  very  hard 
they  should  be  safe.  "  Yes,"  said  he,  "  T  am  in  hopes  to 
land  you  all  safely  at  the  T  before  ten  o'clock.  Unless  we 
can  get  fairly  into  the  harbor  however,  I  shall  have  to  put 
about  and  stnnd  out  to  sea,  for  if  we  are  to  have  a  storm  we 
must  not  stay  tossing  about  near  the  rocks." 

The  storm  increased.  Sail  after  sail  was  reefed  or  taken 
m,  but  still  the  spirits  of  the  company  were  sustained  by 


Grayer.  49 


They  watch  the  light.  'l*he  storm  increases.  Going  about. 

knowing  that  they  were  advancing  towards  Boston,  and  by 
the  hope  that  should  soon  stand  upon  the  firm  shore.  So 
great,  however,  was  the  pitching  and  roUing  of  the  ship,  that 
most  of  the  passengers  retreated  to  their  berths  and  braced 
themselves  there.  A  few  of  the  more  hardy  or  more  expe- 
rienced remained  upon  deck,  clingmg  to  the  masts  or  to  the 
riggmg,  and  watching  with  intense  interest  the  distant 
glimmering  of  the  Boston  light,  which  had  a  short  time  be- 
fore come  into  view, 

"  We  are  not  very  far  from  the  light,"  said  the  captain, 
"but  it  blows  pretty  hard." 

"  Do  you  think  we  shall  get  in?"   asked  a  passenger. 

•'  I  do  not  know,"  said  he  shaking  his  head,  "it  is  a  bad 
night.     I  will,  however,  try  for  it." 

The  passengers  watched  the  light.  They  observed  that 
the  captain  did  not  like  to  talk  while  he  was  at  the  helm, 
and  they  forbore  to  ask  him  questions.  They  knew  that  as 
long  as  they  were  going  towards  the  light,  there  was  hope, 
and  they  watched  it,  therefore,  with  a  very  eager  eye. 
Sometimes  the  ship  would  veer  a  little  from  her  course,  and 
as  the  light  moved  off  to  the  right  or  to  the  left,  they  were 
filled  with  solicitude,  lest  the  captain  was  going  to  abandon 
the  effort  and  put  out  again  to  sea. 

He  kept,  however,  steadily  on  another  half  hour,  though 
wind  and  wave  seemed  to  do  their  utmost  to  compel  him  to 
return.  The  light  grew  larger  and  brighter  as  they  ap- 
proached it,  but  the  wind  increased  so  rapidly  that  the  cap- 
tain seemed  much  perplexed  to  know  what  to  do.  He  put 
the  helm  into  the  hands  of  a  sailor,  and  went  forward  and 
stood  there  looking  into  the  dark,  gloomy  horizon,  until  he 
was  completely  drenched  with  the  spray.  In  a  few  min- 
utes he  returned  suddenly. 

"  'Tis  of  no  use,"  said  he,  and  then  taking  the  helm  again, 
he  called  out  in  his  loudest  voice,  to  the  sailors  who  were  be- 
fore, which,  however,  the  roaring  of  the  waves  almost  drowned, 

"  Ready,  about." 

The  sailors  answered,  "  Readj^" 

A  moment  after,  the  captain's  voice  was  again  heard,  in 
the  loud  but  monotonous  tone  of  command, 

"  Helm's  a  lee." 

There  was  a  bustle  at  the  bows  of  the  ship.  A  great  sail 
flapped  in  the  wind  with  a  sound  of  thunder.  The  ropes 
rattled.  The  boom  swung  with  violence  across  the  deck, 
5 


50  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Spliitiug-  of  the  topsail  Danger.  I'rolection  never  certain. 

and  the  bow  which  had  been  pointed  directly  to  the  hght 
house,  which  had  been  their  only  star  of  hope,  swept 
swiftly  around  the  horizon,  until  it  left  it  behind  them.  The 
vessel  plunged  into  the  waves,  and  to  complete  the  causes  of 
terror,  a  loud  sound,  like  a  clap  of  rattling  thunder,  burst 
close  over  their  heads,  arousing  every  passenger  and  produc- 
ing universal  alarm.     It  was  the  splitting  of  the  topsail. 

The  melancholy  intelligence  was  soon  spread  below  that 
the  effort  to  reach  Boston  was  abandoned,  and  that  they 
were  now  standing  out  to  the  open  sea  and  that  they  mustbe 
all  night  exposed,  unsheltered,  to  the  violence  of  the  storm. 
Although  the  commotion  had  been  already  enough  to  fill 
the  passengers  with  fear,  yet  to  an  eye  accustomed  to  the 
ocean  there  had  not  been  any  real  danger.  But  real  danger 
soon  came.  The  wind  increased,  and  the  vessel  labored  so 
much  in  struggling  against  its  fury,  that  even  the  captain 
thought  it  doubtful  whether  they  should  ever  see  the  land. 

When  I  commenced  this  description,  I  had  no  intention 
of  giving  so  full  a  narrative  of  the  circumstances  of  a  storm 
at  sea,  and  perhaps  my  reader  has  almost  forgotten  what  is 
my  subject,  and  for  what  purpose  I  have  introduced  this  in- 
cident. My  design  was  to  illustrate  the  feelings  with  which 
prayer  ought  to  be  offered  in  danger,  and  I  wished,  therefore, 
to  give  you  a  vivid  idea  of  a  situation  of  danger  on  the  deep. 
Our  passengers  were  now  in  imminent  danger.  They 
were  all  in  their  berths  below,  for  so  violent  was  the  motion 
of  the  vessel  that  it  was  not  safe  to  attempt  to  stand.  The 
wish  was  intimated  by  some,  and  the  desire  soon  extend- 
ed to  all,  that  a  prayer  should  be  offered,  and  they  looked  to 
•our  Christian  traveller  to  express  their  petitions  at  the  throne 
of  grace. 

Now  many  persons  may  have  such  conceptions  of  the  na- 
ture of  prayer,  as  to  suppose  that  if  this  company  should 
now  sincerely  unite  in  commending  themselves  to  God's  pro- 
tection, that  he  would  take  care  of  them,  and  that  they  might 
feel  perfectly  safe.  Manv  cases  have  occurred  in  which 
Christians,  who  have  been  in  the  midst  of  dangrer,  have  fled 
to  Jehovah  for  protection,  and  have  had  their  fears  immedi- 
ately quelled,  and  felt  a  calm  and  happv  assurance  that  God 
would  bring  them  throu<rh  in  safety.  But  such  an  assurance 
is  not  well  grounded.  Are  real  Christians  never  lost  at  sea? 
Do  real  Christians,  who  on  their  sick  beds,  pray  that  God 
will  restore  them  to  health,  never  die  ?  Is  a  Christian,  who 
on  commencing  a  journey,  asks  divine  protection,  never  over- 


PRAYER.  51 

Object  of  prayer  in  danger.  Socrates.  His  peace  of  mind. 

turned  in  a  coach  ?  Is  the  family  which  always  asks  in  its 
evening  prayer,  that  God  will  grant  them  quiet  repose,  never 
called  up  by  the  sudden  sickness  of  a  child,  or  aroused  at 
midnight  by  a  cry  of  fire  ?  Facts  universally  testify  that 
God  does  not  grant  every  request.  He  reserves  to  himself 
the  right,  after  hearing  the  petition  to  grant  or  to  deny  as 
may  seem  best  to  him. 

Then,  j^ou  will  say,  what  good  does  it  do  to  pray  to  God 
in  danger,  if  we  can  have  no  assurance  that  we  shall  be  safe? 
It  does  great  good.  You  cannot  be  sure  that  you  will  be 
certainly  preserved /ro;;i  that  danger,  but  you  can  rest  calm- 
ly and  peacefuU}^  in  the  assurance  that  God  will  do  what  is 
on  the  whole  for  the  best.  "  And  will  this  feeUng,"  you  ask, 
"  enable  any  one  to  rest  in  peace,  while  he  is  out  at  sea  in  a 
storm,  and  in  danger  every  moment  of  sinking?"  Yes,  it 
will,  if  fully  possessed.  If  we  could  feel  assured  that  God 
was  our  friend  and  if  we  had  entire  confidence  in  him,  no 
danger  would  terrifj^  us.  A  man  would  be  calm  and  happy 
in  all  situations.  Christians  have  very  often  been  calm  and 
happy  when  not  danger,  but  certain  death,  was  approaching, 
so  strong  has  been  their  confidence  in  God.  Even  Socrates 
who  had  no  revelation  to  guide  him,  but  whose  affection  for 
the  unseen  God  controlled  him  at  all  times,  even  he,  though 
the  future  must  have  been  very  dark  and  gloomy,  met  his  fate 
not  merely  with  fortitude,  but  with  calmness  and  peace. 

He  was  in  a  cold  dungeon  where  his  enemies  had  impris- 
oned him  from  jealousy  of  his  extensive  influence  in  behalf 
of  virtue.  He  was  condemned  to  die,  and  in  a  few  days  the 
cup  of  poison  was  to  be  brought  to  him  to  drink.  His  wife 
came  to  his  prison  to  bid  him  farewell.  But  she  was  so  over- 
whelmed with  agitation  and  sorrow,  that  she  could  not  re- 
main. His  other  friends  around  him  in  tears, — but  he  was 
all  the  time  unmoved.  He  talked  of  the  principles  of  duty, 
the  peace  and  the  joy  of  virtue,  and  of  his  hopes  of  a  happy 
immortality,  after  the  poison  should  have  done  its  work. 
Presently  thev  brought  him  the  fatal  cup.  His  friends  were 
overwhelmed  with  the  most  agitating  sorrow, — but  he  did 
not  fear.  He  confided  in  divine  protection,  and  took  the  poi- 
son from  the  jailor's  hands  and  drank  it  all.  He  walked 
abo^it  a  little  while,  and  then  laid  down  upon  his  bed  and 
died.  He  trusted  in  an  unknown  God,  and  hoped  for  im- 
mortality, and  he  did  not  fear.  And  shall  a  Christian  who 
knows  the  affection  of  his,  father,  and  who  knows  that  tliere. 


52  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


True  composure  in  danger.  The  prayer. 

is  a  future  world  of  peace  and  joy,  shall  he  refuse  to  be  calm 
in  danger,  unless  he  can  first  be  sure  that  he  shall  certainlj'- 
be  preserved  uninjured.  No.  When  we  ask  God's  protec- 
tion in  danger,  we  may  in  all  ordinary  cases  expect  protec- 
tion. He  has  promised  to  grant  our  requests,  unless  special 
reasons  prevent.  Now  as  we  never  can  know  what  these 
special  reasons  are,  we  can  never  be  certain  of  security  and 
consequently,  the  foundation  of  our  peace  and  happiness  at 
such  tunes  must  be,  not  the  belief  that  we  are  certainly  safe, 
but  a  calm  and  happy  acquiescence  in  God's  will.  Not  a 
sparrow  falls  to  the  ground  without  his  knowledge, — still 
sparrows  often  do  fall.  All  that  we  can  be  absolutely  cer- 
tain of  is,  that  whatever  happens  to  us,  will  come  with  the 
knowledge  and  permission  of  our  best  and  greatest  friend — 
and  every  calamity  which  comes  in  this  way  we  ought  to 
be  willing  to  meet. 

But  to  return  to  our  ship.  The  passengers  were  all  below. 
It  was  no  longer  safe  for  them  to  attempt  to  stand  in  any  part 
of  the  vessel,  and  the  Christian  traveller  lookmg  out  from  the 
berth  to  which  he  had  retreated  called  upon  God  to  save 
them  from  their  common  danger.  What  prayer  he  offered 
I  do  not  know.  I  learned  the  circumstances  of  the  danger 
of  this  packet,  first  from  a  father  on  shore  who  was  waiting 
the  arrival  of  his  boy  who  was  on  board,  when  the  storm 
came  on,  and  afterwards  from  several  of  the  passengers  when 
they  had  all  safely  reached  the  land.  I  do  not  therefore 
know  what  the  prayer  was,  but  that  I  may  the  more  dis- 
tinctly convey  to  my  j^oung  readers  an  idea  of  the  spirit  with 
which  prayer  in  danger  should  be  offered,  I  will  write  a 
prayer  which  it  seems  to  me  might,  with  propriety,  on  such 
an  occasion  be  offered.  Let  us  imagine  then  that  the  terri- 
fied passengers  in  their  various  l^erths  in  the  dark  cabin,  lis- 
ten and  hear,  as  well  as  the  howling  of  the  tempest  and  the 
roaring  of  the  waves  will  permit,  the  following  petition,  in 
which  they  endeavor  cordiallj'-  to  join. 

"  Almighty  God,  thou  hast  promised  to  be  with  two  or 
three  who  unite  to  call  upon  thee,  wherever  they  are :  we 
come  therefore  with  full  confidence  that  thou  art  with  us 
now,  and  that  thou  who  dost  rule  winds  and  waves,  art 
really  present,  to  hear  what  we  have  to  say  as  we  come  be- 
fore thee. 

"  Grant,  Holy  Spirit,  that  all  of  us  who  are  now  present,  ex- 
posed to  this  danger,  may  come  with  our  whole  hearts  to  thee^ 


i*rayi:r.  5o 


The  prayer  at  sea.  Eflecls.  Sincerity  of  prayer.. 

When  in  heallh  and  safety,  we  break  thy  commands  and 
neglect  our  duty,  and  then  when  danger  comes  and  no  arm 
but  thine  can  help,  we  are  ashamed  and  afraid  to  come  to 
thee.  But  O  our  father  let  not  one  of  us  hesitate  now.  We 
thank  thee  for  teaching  us  by  so  irresistible  a  proof,  hoAV  de- 
pendant we  are  upon  thee.  May  we  all  be  willing  to  learn 
the  lesson  and  may  we  bow  humbly  before  thee  now,  even 
if  we  have  never  bowed  before. 

"  We  come  to  ask  that  thou  wilt  protect  us  in  this  danger, 
and  bring  us  safely  to  our  homes.  Thou  canst  protect  from 
greater  dangers  than  these.  Wilt  thou  protect  us.  Save 
us  from  finding  our  watery  grave  here  in  the  deep,  and  save 
our  beloved  parents  and  brothers  and  sisters  at  home,  from 
the  anxiety  they  must  even  now  feel,  and  from  the  anguish 
which  tidings  of  our  destmction  must  give.  Almighty  fa- 
ther, save  us  we  pray  thee. 

"  Nevertheless  not  our  will  but  thine  be  done.  We  see 
but  a  part  and  thou  seest  the  whole.  If  thou  seest  it  to  be 
best  that  we  should  go  down  here  to  a  waterj^  grave,  we  would 
acquiesce  in  thy  will.  We  have  solemnly  given  ourselves  to 
thee,  and  chosen  thee  for  our  portion.  We  have,  if  we  love  thee 
at  all,  committed  ourselves  to  thy  care  and  to  thy  disposal. 
We  have  rejoiced  in  this  dependence  upon  thee,  when  we 
have  been  in  health  and  safety,  and  we  will  not  shrink  from 
our  covenant  to  be  thine,  now  we  are  in  danger.  Do  with  us 
as  seemeth  good  in  thy  sight,  only  give  to  us  all  a  calm  and 
happy  acquiescence  in  thy  will.  Pardon  our  sins,  so  that  we 
may  be  at  peace  with  thee,  and  whether  we  are  to  live  or 
die  may  our  hearts  be  thine." 

Such  may  have  been  the  spirit  of  the  prayer.  Such  I 
presume  was  the  spirit  of  the  petition  offered  on  this  occa- 
sion. Every  heart  which  will  sincerely  offer  such  a  prayer 
when  in  danger  will  feel  relieved  by  it  from  its  solicitude  and 
fear.  I  am  aware  that  in  a  case  of  imminent  exposure  of 
life,  the  teiTor  excited  is  often  a  physical  feeling  which  moral 
causes  will  not  fully  control.  Still  this  calm  acquiescence  in 
God's  superior  wisdom  a  id  power,  will  do  more  than  any 
other  feeling  can,  to  produce  peace. 

III.  Sincerity  of  Prayer.  Praver  is  in  all  ordinary  cases  and 
it  ought  to  be  a  calm  and  peaceful  exercise,  not  an  agitating 
one.  Many  persons  waste  the  hour  of  prayer  in  trying  to 
feel  some  deep  agitation,  imaging  that  sincere  and  accepta- 
ble prayer  cannot  be  offered  without  it.  You  must  be  sin-. 
*5 


54  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Ardour  in  prayer.  AH  can  pray  who  wish  to. 

cere  when  you  pray,  but  you  may  be  calm.  Read  our  Sa- 
viour's model  of  prayer.  "Our  Father  who  art  in  heaven, 
hallowed  be  thy  name.  Thy  kingdom  come ;  thy  will  be 
done  on  earth  as  it  is  in  heaven.  Give  us  this  day  our  daily 
bread,  &c."  What  a  peaceful,  quiet  spirit  it  breathes.  The 
only  question  in  regard  to  your  prayer  being  acceptable  is 
this,  Do  3^ou  wish  for  any  thing  which  you  know  no  one 
but  God  can  grant,  and  are  you  willing  to  ask  him  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ  ?  If  so,  come  at  once  and  ask  him. 
That  is  all  that  is  necessary  to  constitute  prayer.  Ask  with 
that  degree  of  feeling  which  your  interest  in  the  request 
prompts  and  no  more.  If  you  wish  to  increase  your  feeling 
you  cannot  do  it  in  any  way  except  by  increasing  your  in- 
terest in  the  request.  You  may  give  additional  vividness  to 
your  idea  of  the  value  of  the  object  sought,  by  thinking  of 
it,  and  considenng  how  great  a  blessing  it  would  be  to  you 
if  granted,  and  thus  you  may  increase  your  ardor  in  prayer. 
But  all  direct  attempts  to  produce  this  ardor  by  effort  will 
fail,  or  if  they  succeed  in  producing  some  sort  of  excitement, 
it  is  not  a  healthy,  acceptable  interest  in  praj^er. 

Now  after  this  explanation  those  who  read  this,  can  easily 
tell  whether  they  are  prepared  to  offer,  this  night,  accepta- 
ble praj'-er  to  God.  Do  you  wish  to  have  God  take  care  of 
you,  while  you  sleep.  I  do  not  mean  do  you  wish  to  be  safe, 
every  body  wishes  to  be  safe ;  but  do  you  wish  to  have  God 
at  your  bedside,  protecting  you.  If  3^ou  do  not,  if  the  feel- 
mg  of  his  presence  would  be  a  burden  to  you  and  a  restraint, 
of  course  you  will  not  ask  him  to  come.  But  suppose  you 
are  desirous  of  having  him  present,  are  you  then  willing  to 
ask  him.  I  do  not  inquire  whether  you  are  willing  to  struggle 
a  long  time  with  your  heart  to  awaken  deep  feeling  enough 
to  justify,  in  your  opinion,  coming  to  God.  Are  you  willing 
as  you  retire  to  rest  to-night  to  breathe  a  short  and  simple 
petition  to  God  to  come  and  be  your  friend  and  protector  for 
the  night,  to  acknowledge  that  you  do  not  deserve  his  pro- 
tection, and  that  you  ask  it  in  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ.  If 
you  are  willing  to  do  this,  and  if  you  actually  do  it,  and  if 
you  ask  with  that  degree  of  feeling  which  your  sincere  de- 
sire for  God's  protection  prompts,  you  may  lie  down  at 
peace,  sure  that  you  have  offered  acceptable  prayer. 

But  here  I  must  mention  a  difficulty  which,  many  and 
many  a  time,  has  been  brought  to  me  by  serious  minded  per- 
sons who  wish  to  pray  to  God,  but  who  think  they  should 


PRAYER.  55 


A  difficulty  about  selfishness.  Reply. 

not  pray  aright.  I  presume  this  difficulty  has  occurred  to 
many  who  will  read  this  chapter.  I  fancy  I  can  perceive 
thoughts  like  these  passing  through  the  mind  of  some 
thoughtful  conscientious  one,  who  has  taken  up  this  book 
honestly  desiring  to  find  in  it,  religious  instruction. 

"  If  I  understand  the  author  aright  he  says  that,  if  I,  to* 
night,  pray  to  God  to  protect  me,  just  because  I  want  protec- 
tion, or  rather  because  I  want  his  protection,  that  will  be  ac- 
ceptable prayer.  But  it  seems  to  me  that  that  would  be  mere 
selfishness.  I  wish  for  a  great  many  things  which  I  know 
none  but  God  can  grant,  but  if  I  ask  them  only  because  I  feel 
the  need  of  them,  it  is  only  a  selfish  desire  fov  my  own  happi- 
ness,  and  1  cannot  expect  to  be  heard.  I  should  like  such  a 
friend  as  Jesus  Christ,  to  come  to  him  in  all  my  trials  and  troub* 
les,  and  to  seek  strength  in  temptation.  But  then  this  is  all 
love  of  my  own  happiness.  I  cannot  be  happy  in  sin ; — there  is 
a  foreboding,  and  a  burden  from  which  1  wish  to  be  reliev- 
ed. But  unless  I  have  a  higher  motive  than  a  wish  to  ob- 
tain peace  and  happiness  myself,  I  cannot  expect  to  be 
heard." 

I  have  no  doubt  there  are  multitudes,  who  are  substantial- 
ly in  this  state  of  mind.  They  are  deterred  by  this  difficulty 
from  coming  cordially  to  their  great  friend  above.  I  have 
stated  the  difficulty  as  distinctly  and  fully  as  I  can,  adopt- 
ing as  nearly  as  possible,  the  words  in  which  it  has  often 
been  presented  to  me.  I  hope  you  will  attend  carefully  to 
my  reply,  and  if  it  is  satisfactory  now,  lay  it  up  in  your  mem- 
ories, and  never  be  embarrassed  by  this  difficulty  again. 

My  reply  is  substantially  this  ;  that  a  desire  for  the  peace 
and  happiness  of  piety,  is  a  perfectly  proper  motive  for  com- 
ing to  God.  It  is  the  motive  that  the  Bible  every  where 
presents.  It  is  not,  in  any  proper  sense  of  the  term,  selfish- 
ness. 

First ;  I  say  it  is  a  perfectly  proper  motive.  God  is  our  great 
creator  and  protector,  and  he  made  us  weak  and  dependant, 
but  desirous  of  peace  and  happiness,  for  the  very  purpose  of 
having  us  look  to  him  for  it.  He  never  intended  to  make  a 
universe  of  stoics,  in  which  each  one  should  be  entirely  in- 
different about  his  own  happiness.  The  spectacle  which  he 
wishes  to  see  is  all  happy,  and  all  happy  in  him.  He  wishes 
us  to  desire  and  seek  this  happiness,  and  to  come  to  him  for 
it. 

Again ;    I  say  that  the  Bible  every  where  presents  the 


56  YOUNG    CHRlSTlA\'. 


Invitation  to  the  wear}'.  The  prodigal.  The  >obleman. 

peace  and  happiness  of  piety  as  the  motive  why  we  should 
seek  it.  Jesus  stood  and  cried,  in  a  great  concourse  of  peo- 
ple, "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden, 
and  I  will  give  you  rest."  How  strange  that  any  one  can 
imagine  after  this,  that  a  love  of  rest,  and  a  desire  to  be  re- 
lieved of  burden,  is  not  a  proper  motive  for  coming  to  Jesus 
Christ.  The  prodigal  son,  perhaps  the  most  striking  and 
complete  emblem  of  the  penitent  sinner  which  the  Bible  con- 
tains says,  "  How  many  hired  servants  of  my  father  have 
bread  enough  and  to  spare,  while  I  perish  with  hunger :  I 
will  arise  and  go  to  my  father."  Who  would  think  after 
reading  this  parable,  that  any  sinner  would  be  afraid  to  come 
to  the  Saviour,  because  his  only  motive  is  to  have  his  wants 
supplied.  Look  at  the  thousands  who  came  to  our  Saviour 
to  be  healed  of  their  diseases,  or  to  be  rescued  from  some  suf- 
fering. Did  he  ever  turn  them  awaybecause  they  were  selfish? 
A  nobleman  came  once.  His  son  was  at  the  point  of  death. 
Parental  aifection  urged  him  on.  He  came  and  begged  the 
Saviour  to  come  and  save  his  son.  He  was  so  far  from  being 
under  the  influence  of  any  high  philosophical  notions  of  faith, 
and  dismtcrestedness,  that  when  the  Saviour*  began  to  speak 
of  faith  and  the  influence  of  miracles  upon  it,  he  almost  inter- 
rupts him  by  saying,  "  Come  down  ere  my  child  die." 
And  did  the  Saviour  repulse  him,  because  he  was  influenced 
by  wrong  motives.  It  was  not  a  wrong  motive.  He  wanted 
happiness,  and  he  was  wiUing  to  come  to  Jesus  Christ  for 
it.  And  God  wishes  to  see  the  whole  human  race  eager  for 
the  pure  joys  of  piety  and  flocking  around  his  throne  to  ob- 
tain them.  Oh,  if  any  of  you  are  weary  with  the  burden  of 
sin,  and  long  for  the  peace  and  happiness  of  piety,  come 
boldly  for  it.  Nev|;x.  fear  that  God  will  call  it  selfishness, 
and  drive  you  a\yay.  ; . 

Once,  more;  I  said  this  could  not  be  called  selfishness. 
Desiring  the  happiness  of  virtue,  and  taking  the  proper 
measures  to  preserve  it,  never  is  called  selfishness,  except  by 
persons  lost  in  the  mazes  of  metaphysics.  Suppose  two 
children,  whose  parents  had  taught  them  habits  of  regularity 
and  order  so  fully  that  they  take  pleasure  in  the  system- 
atic arrangement  of  all  then*  little  property,  come  and  ask 
their  father  to  let  them  have  a  large  desk  which  stands  use- 
less in  the  garret,  to  bring  to  their  little  room  as  a  place  of 
deposit  for  their  books  and  papers  and  toys.  Suppose  now  he 
should  enquire  of  the  boys  and  should  find  that,  they  have 


PRAYER.  57 


The  desk.  The  father's  refusal.  Real  selfishness. 

planned  the  disposal  of  their  eftects,  exactly,  in  the  shelves 
and  drawers  of  the  desk,  and  are  anticipating  much  enjoy- 
ment from  the  expected  acquisition.  He  sees  their  counte- 
nances brightened  with  annxiation,  as  they  wait  breathlessly 
to  catch  his  answer  and  then  to  fly  away  and  commence 
the  removal.  Now  suppose  the  father  should  stop  them  by 
such  absurd  words  as  these. 

"  My  boys ;  1  am  very  sorry  to  find  that  you  are  so  selfish. 
I  strongly  suspect  that  the  reason  why  you  want  that  desk, 
is  because  you  expect  some  pleasure  from  it.  Perhaps  3'ou 
think  you  will  enjoy  your  property  more  by  seeing  it  well 
arranged  in  such  a  good  store  house,  or  perhaps  you  think 
3'ou  can  spend  rainy  afternoons  in  your  room  more  pleasant- 
ly, if  you  have  it.  Now  that  is  very  wrong.  That  is  self- 
ishness. To  desire  any  thing  for  the  sake  of  the  happiness 
it  affords  is  sefishness.  Unless  you  can  ask  from  some  better 
motive  than  that,  I  cannot  grant  yo\.ir  requests." 

I  do  not  think  that  any  gravity  of  countenance  whicb 
oould  be  assumed,  would  lead  the  boys  to  imagine  that  their 
father  could  be  serious  in  this.  Certainly  no  parent  would 
ever  say  it,  and  if  earthly  parents  know  how  to  give  good 
gifts  to  their  children,  how  much  more  shall  your  heavenly 
father  give  his  ho\y  spirit  to  them  that  ask  him ;  that  is^ 
to  them  that  ask  him  for  it  as  a  good  gift, — something 
which  is  to  do  good  to  them. 

But  what  is  selfishness.  Why  if  the  desk  instead  of  ly- 
ing useless  in  the  garret,  was  used  by  the  older  brothers, 
and  the  younger  wished  to  take  it  away,  that  would  be  self- 
ishness. A  disposition  to  encroach  upon  the  rights  and 
enjoyments  of  others  in  order  to  secure  our  own,  is  selfishness, 
and  we  must  not  come  to  God  with  this  spirit.  If  any  one 
however,  desires  peace  and  happiness,  and  is  satisfied  that 
God  only  can  give  it,  let  him  come  and  ask.  "  Ho  every 
one  that  thirsteth  come  unto  the  waters."  God  never  will 
repulse  you,  because  thirst  urges  you  to  come. 

IV.  The  Earnestness  of  Pro.yer.  Importunacy  in  prayer  is  a 
subject  in  regard  to  which  the  conceptions  of  the  young  are 
often  in  error.  By  very  many  it  is  understood  to  mean 
something  very  much  like  a  teazing  spirit.  But  how  can 
such  a  spirit  be  felt  by  one  who  knows  that  God  is  always 
ready  to  grant,  unless  imperious  reasons  compel  him  to  deny. 
I  believe  the  word  importunate  is  not  applied  to  prayer  in 
the  Bible,     The  widow  is  said  to  have  been  importunate  in 


68  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Imporiuiiate  prayer.  The  unjust  Judge.  Prayer  of  Faith. 

entreating  the  unjust  judge,  but  then  the  reason  why  she 
was  obhged  to  repeat  and  urge  her  request  in  such  a  way, 
was  the  very  injustice  of  the  Judge,  which  has  no  parallel 
in  God's  character.  The  Saviour  in  that  case  does  by  no 
means  intend  to  say  that  we  are  to  come  to  God  with  a  feel- 
ing that  he  is  dishichned  to  grant  our  requests,  and  that  we 
are  to  overcome  his  reluctance  by  the  pertinacity  with  which 
we  urge  our  claim.  Far  less  should  we  ever  come  to  him 
with  the  tone  of  demand,  claiming  what  we  ask  as  if  it 
were  our  due.  We  should  come  humbly,  and  with  a  calm, 
but  not  an  indifferent  spirit.  If  we  ask  sincerely,  God  will 
certainly  hear  us,  and  he  will  certainly  grant  our  requests 
unless  good  reasons  prevent.  If  good  reasons  do  prevent, 
the  judge  of  all  the  earth  is  not  a  weak  minded  monarch, 
who  will  be  led  to  do  what  he  knows  is  on  the  whole  not  for 
the  best,  because  he  cannot  bear  to  refuse  an  urgent  and 
long  continued  petition.  No  a  spirit  of  entire  submission 
to  God's  overruling  hand,  is  an  essential  part  of  the  spirit  of 
prayer. 

It  is  a  very  common  impression  among  j'oung  persons, 
and  perhaps  some  of  mature  minds  are  not  entirely  free  from 
the  same  perplexity,  that  in  order  to  render  prayer  accepta- 
ble the  Christian  must  have  a  full  belief  that  his  request 
will  be  granted.  This  is  called  the  praver  of  faith.  Hence 
many  persons  when  they  strongly  desire  some  spiritual  bles- 
sing for  themselves  or  others,  make  a  great  deal  of  effort 
while  they  pray  for  it  to  believe  that  they  shall  receive  it. 
Come  with  me  to  the  morning  prayer  meeting.  A  few 
Christians  whose  duties  of  business  press  upon  them  during 
the  day,  assemble  by  the  grey  light  of  the  dawn  around  the 
early  fire  of  some  christian  neighbor.  They  read  and  inflect 
a  moment  upon  a  few  verses  of  the  Bible.  They  sing  a 
hymn  and  are  just  about  to  kneel  before  God  to  unite  in 
prayer  for  his  blessing  upon  themselves,  and  upon  their  fami- 
lies and  neighbors  during  the  day,  when  perhaps  one  of  the 
number  addresses  the  meeting  as  follows. 

"My  brethren,  we  come  this  morning  to  ask  great  blessings 
but  we  must  have  faith  or  we  cannot  expect  that  God  will 
hear  us.  He  has  promised  and  to  hear  us  to  give  us  what- 
ever we  ask  bplieving.  Let  us  believe  then  firmly  and  cor- 
dially that  God  will  hear  us.  And  let  us  ask  for  great  bles^ 
sings.  God  is  ready  to  give  us  the  greatest  if  we  only  have 
faith." 


PRAYER.  59 

The  morning  prayer  meeting-.  The  Young  Christian's  difficulty. 

They  then  unite  in  prayer,  and  there  kneels  with  them,  in 
a  corner  of  the  room,  unnoticed  perhaps  by  all  but  God,  a 
young  disciple  who  has  hesitatingly  asked  of  the  master  of 
the  house  permission  to  enjoy  the  privilege  of  joining  that 
circle  of  prayer.  She  understands  the  word  of  exhortation 
which  was  given  to  mean  that  she  must  fully  believe  that 
the  blessings  to  be  asked  will  certainly  be  granted.  She 
tries  therefore  as  she  listens  to  the  words  of  the  prayer  to  be- 
lieve this.  Perhaps  the  first  request  is  that  God  would  pour 
out  his  spirit  upon  all  present,  and  purify  them,  and  keep  them 
that  day  devoted  to  his  service  and  free  from  all  sin.  Now 
she  thinks  it  right  to  pray  for  this  ;  she  sincerely  desires  it, 
but  she  cannot  really  believe  that  it  will  be  fully  granted. 
Then  she  reproves  herself  for  her  unbelief.  She  struggles 
against  the  feeling  that  it  is  not  probable  that  all  present 
will  be  perfectly  pure  and  holy  during  that  day.  She  strug- 
gles against  it,  but  she  cannot  conquer  it.  Belief  rests  on 
evidence  not  on  determination. 

The  next  petition  is  for  a  powerful  revival  of  pure  religion 
in  that  neighborhood.  That  by  a  divine  influence  exerted 
over  their  hearts,  Christians  may  be  led  to  love  their  Maker 
more  and  to  serve  him  better,  and  those  who  are  living  in  sin 
may  universally  be  awakened  to  a  conviction  of  their  guilt 
and  danger  and  be  persuaded  to  serve  Jehovah.  Now  our 
young  Christian  sincerely  deserves  this,  she  hopes  for  it,  but 
she  is  distrest  because  she  cannot  cordially  believe  that  it 
will  certainly  come,  and  she  considers  this  feelmg  a  want  of 
faith.  She  rises  from  her  posture  of  devotion  feeling  anx- 
ious and  unhappy  because  she  does  not  feel  absolutely  sure 
that  what  she  has  asked  is  on  the  whole  for  the  best  and  that 
it  will  certainly  be  granted. 

Now  all  her  difficulty  arises  from  misunderstanding  the 
nature  of  the  faith  which  ought  to  be  exercised  in  prayer. 
The  remarks  made,  meant  or  th^jp  ought  to  have  meant  that 
we  are  to  come  to  God  confident  that  he  will  do  what  is,  on 
the  ichoJe  for  the  best, — not  positive  that  he  will  do  exactly 
what  ive  ask.  God  never  has  given  assemblies  of  Christians 
authority  to  mark  out  a  course  for  him  to  pursue  in  such  a 
sense  as  that  he  shall  be  bound  to  pursue  it.  He  has  prom- 
ised to  give  us  what  we  ask  ;  but  still  the  exceptions,  univer- 
sally understood  to  be  implied  by  this  language  in  other  ca- 
ses, are  attached  to  it  in  this.  We  must  offer  our  petitions 
trusting  in  God, — believing  as  the  Bible  expresses  it  that  he 


60  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


God  <leci<le.s.  The  Mother. 

is,  and  that  he  is  the  rewaider  of  them  that  dihg-eiitly  seek 
him, — but  after  we  have  offered  our  most  earnest  requests,  we 
must  leave  the  matter  with  him.  This  is  what  is  meant  by 
the  prayer  of  faith  so  often  alluded  to  by  Christian  ministers. 
And  this  was  the  kmd  of  faith  our  Saviour  required  of  those 
who  come  to  him  to  be  healed.  Belicvest  thou,  said  he,  that  I 
am  able  to  do  this.  Not  that  I  shall  do  it.  When  the  apostles 
and  brethren  came  together  to  pray  for  Peter,  they  were  so 
far  from  believing  that  their  prayer  for  his  deliverance  would 
be  granted  that  they  were  incredulous  when  they  saw  him. 
They  trusted  in  God  and  believed  that  he  would  do  what 
was  right.  This  confidence  in  him  was  the  faith  they  ex- 
ercised. Believing  that  ye  shall  receive  them,  then,  must 
mean — believing  that  God  is  able  and  willing  to  grant,  ex- 
cept in  those  few  cases,  where  imperious  reasons  compel  him 
to  deny.  He  sees  many  material  considerations  in  every 
case  which  are  entirely  beyond  our  view,  and  we  must  leave 
him  to  decide. 

It  is  very  often  said  that  prayer  for  spiritual  blessings  will 
always  be  heard  and  granted.  But  we  can  be  no  more  ab- 
solutel}^  certain  in  this  case,  than  in  any  others.  God  does 
often  withhold  the  influences  of  his  spirit,  as  we  all  know 
full  well.  Who  of  us  can  tell  what  are  the  causes.  Look 
at  yonder  mother.  She  has  an  only  son.  Her  first  prayer 
in  regard  to  him  was  that  God  would  make  him  his.  She 
consecrated  him  to  his  Maker's  service  at  his  earhest  breath. 
She  rocked  him  to  sleep  in  infancy  singing  a  hymn  of  ac- 
knowledgement that  he  was  the  Lord's.  As  soon  as  he  could 
understand  the  lesson,  she  taught  him  his  duty  to  his  great 
Creator.  She  has  often  knelt  with  him  in  prayer,  and  her 
whole  heart  is  set  upon  having  her  only  son  devoted  to  the 
service  of  God.  But  all  her  efforts  are  fruitless  and  her 
prayers  are  not  answered.  Her  son  grows  up  in  indifference 
about  God,  which  perhaps  becomes,  when  he  has  arrived  at 
maturiiv,  open  hostility.  How  many  such  mothers  there 
are.  She  was  praying  too  for  spiritual  blessings,  for  the 
conversion  of  a  son  to  God,  but  the  sovereign  Ruler  leaves 
him,  notwithstanding  these  supplications,  to  his  own  chosen 
way. 

Yes  God  is  a  sovereign.  He  dispenses  all  his  favors  as 
he  him.self  thinks  best.  He  listens  to  our  requests,  and 
takes  them  into  kind  consideration,  but  he  reserves  to  him- 
self the  right   to   make   the   ultimate   decision.      Let   us 


PRAYER.  61 


God  decides.  A  ia\ orable  answer  to  prater  never  certain. 

then  come  to  him  then  with  real  sincerity,  and  with  a  deep 
sense  of  our  need  of  the  blessings  we  ask,  but  always  with 
this  humble  feeling,  that  God  sees  father  than  we, — and  can 
judge  better, — and  that  he  will  himself  make  the  ultimate 
decision  in  regard  to  every  thing  we  ask. 

And  we  must  remember  that  this  is  just  as  true  with  re- 
gard to  spiritual  blessings  as  to  any  other.     1  he  cause  of  re- 
ligion advances  in  the  world  in  a  manner  which  we  cannot 
predict  nor  account  for.      I  do  no:  pretend  to  say  precisely 
how  far,  and  in  what  respects  this  progress  depends  upon 
the  agency  of  man,  and  how  far  upon  power  which  is  in 
the  hands  of  God.      But  every  one,  whatever  may  be  hi? 
ideas  of  the  boundlessness  of  human  freedom,  acknowledges 
that  a  most  important  agency  in  determining  where  the  gos- 
pel shall  triumph,  and  where  it  shall  fail,  and  in  regulating- 
its  progress  throughout  the  earth,  rests  in  the  hands  of  the 
Supreme.      Now  what  Christian  is  there,  who  can  under- 
stand the  principles  which  guide  Jehovah  in  the  exercise  of 
the  power  which  he  so  obviously  possesses  "2     How  many 
secretly  think  that  the  sudden  conversion  of  a  whole  city 
perhaps,,  to  God  would  be  a  glorious  achievement  of  the  Re- 
deemer, and  fancy  that  if  we  had  the  power  over  the  heart 
which  God  possesses,  we  would  produce  the  effect  at  once, 
and  exhibit  the  magnificent  spectacle  of  the  undisputed  reign 
of  holiness  and  peace  in  a  community  of  a  hundred  thou- 
sand.    Suppose  now  every  Christian  in  some  great  city  were 
to  unite  in  a  sincere  and  heartfelt  prayer  that  God  would 
pour  out  his  spirit  universally  among  them,  and  in  a  single 
day  awaken  all  the  multitudes  around  them  to  piety.      It  is 
indeed  unquestionably  true  that  if  this  united  prayer  should 
be  offered  and  should  be  accompanied  by  the  efforts  which  sin- 
cerity in  the  prayer  would  ensure,  that  most  uncommon  ef- 
fects would  follow.      But  who  believes  that  the  whole  city 
would  be  converted  in  a  day  ?     No  one.      Why  1    Because 
this  is  not  according  to  the  analogy  of  God's  working  in 
spreading  the  Gospel.     And  why  does  he  not  work  accord- 
ing to  this  analogy,  converting  whole  communities  at  once, 
leading  them  to  him  as  he  now  often  leads  individuals  in  an, 
hour  of  silence  and  solitude?    Why  does  not  God  work  in 
this  manner?  Some  one  may  sav  because  Christians  are  so 
cold  and  negligent  in  duty.     Why  then  does  not  the  power 
which  raised  up  Paul,  raise  up  thousands  like  him  now,  and 
enkindling  within  them  the  spirit   and  devotedness  of  the 
6 


62  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Danger  of  perversion.  The  humble  and  yet  active  teacher. 

great  Apostle,  send  them  forth  to  bring  the  world  at  once  to 
hun  ? — Who  can  tell  ? 

No  ;  we  cannot  direct.  God  guides  by  his  own  wisdom, 
the  chariot  of  his  coming.  We  can  ask  but  we  cannot  dic- 
tate. If  we  attempt  to  take  the  rems,  he  holds  them  up  far 
above  our  reach,  and  the  wheels  roll  on  w^here  God  points 
the  way. 

The  experienced  Christian   who  reads  these  remarks  in- 
tended to  shew  that  God  really  controls  and  dn-ects  every 
thing  relating  to  the  progress  of  piety  in  the  world,  w^iU  im- 
mediately say,  "  How  liable  we  are  to  pervert  this  truth  so 
as  to  excuse  our  own  neglect  of  duty."     Yes  it  is  so.     Men 
are  every  where  so  prone  to  throw  off  responsibility  from 
themselves,  that  the  minister  of  the  gospel  is  often  almost  a- 
fraid  to  describe  fully  and  cordially  God's  supreme  power 
over  the  heart,  for  fear  that  men  will  lose  their  sense  of  their 
own  accountability.      A  mother  will    ask  that   God   will 
change  the  hearts  of  her  children  and  sometimes  wait  as  she 
expresses    it  for   God's    time    to  come,  while  she   in  the 
mean  time  does  nothing,  or  at  most,  she  goes  over  the  same 
formal  round  of  duties,  without  acting  with  the  spirit  and 
the  enterprise  and  the  ingenuity,  which  she  would  exercise, 
if  she  knew  that  something  depended  upon  her  own  efforts. 
But  this  perversion  of  scripture  truth  is  not  necessary  or  un- 
avoidable.    However  difficult  it  may  be  for  us  to  understand 
how  man  can  be  fully  free  and  fully  accountable  while  God  re- 
tains so  much  direct  power  over  his  heart  as  the  Bible  so 
distinctly  describes, — it  is  possible  cordially  to  feel  the  ac- 
countability, and  at  the  same  time  sincerely  to  acknowledge 
the  dependence.     Look  at  the  case  of  that  Christian  teach- 
er.     She  prays  most  earnestly  that  God  would  come  and 
bless  the  scho'd  to  which  she  belongs.      She  brings  indi- 
vidual cases  in  secrecy  and  solitude  before  God.     She  prays 
that  faults  may  be  forgiven — froward  dispositions  softened — 
and  all  brought  under  the  influence  of  christian  love.     She 
asks  that  God  will  pour  out  his  spirit,  and  diffuse  peace  and 
happiness  over  the  school  room,  improving  every  character, 
purifying  and  ennobling  every  heart,  and  making  the  dejec- 
ted, happy,  and  the  happ3%  happier  still.     She  has  seen  such 
an  influence  diffused  over  a  school — she  knows  it  is  from 
above,  and  she  looks  to  him  who  rules  human  hearts  to  come 
into  her  circle  with  his  benisrn  influences  once  more.     Now 


PRAYER.  63 


Conclusion.  Slory  of  the  ship  concluded. 

<ioes  she  after  this  go  away  and  spend  her  thue  in  inaction, 
on  the  ground  that  God  only  can  change  the  heart,  and 
that  she  has  done  all  in  her  power  by  brniging  the  case  to 
him  1     No,  she  comes  to  her  morning  duties  in  the  school 
room  with  a  heart  full  of  desire  to  do  something  to  promote 
what  she  has  asked  God  to  bestow.      And  she  does  accom- 
plish something.      By  her  kindness,  she  wins  her  compan- 
ions to  her  confidence  and  love,  and  in  a  thousand  nameless 
ways,  which  never  can  be  described,  but  which  a  heart  full 
of  love  will  always  be  discovering  she  carries  forward  very 
effectually  in  her  little  circle  the  cause  for  which  she  prays. 
It  is  so  universally.     When  a  minister  allows  his  sense  of 
his  entire  dependence  on  God  to  become  feeble  or  indistinct, 
his  efforts  instead  of  increasing  diminish  too.      It  may  be 
called  the  Christian  parodox  that  he  who,  in  theory,  under- 
rates most  completely  the  influence  of  human  efforts  and 
exalts  that  of  the  spirit  of  God  in  the  salvation  of  men,  is 
ordinarily  most  indefatigable  in  those  very  efforts  which  he 
knows  are  of  themselves  utterly  fruitless  and  vain. 

And  here  I  might  close  this  long  Chapter,  by  urging 
my  readers  to  commence  immediately  the  practice  of 
bringing  all  their  wants  and  cares  to  G.od...  I  tmst  some 
have  been  persuaded  by  it  to  do  so.  Some  of  my  young 
readers  however  probably  wish  to  know  what  became  of 
the  packet  ship  which  I  left  in  imminent  danger  out  in  the 
bay ;  for  that  narrative  is  substantially  true,  though  I 
was  not  an  eye  witness  of  the  scene.  When  I  left  them 
they  were  tossing  about  upon  the  waves,  The  storm  was 
increasing,  the  Captain  had  almost  given  then)  over  for  lost, 
and  those  of  the  passengers  who  were  not  prepared  to  die,  were 
greatly  agitated  by  remorse  and  terror,  Things  continued 
in  this  state  for  some  hours,  and  very  few  of  those  on  board 
expected  to  see  another  morning.  The  passengers  in  the 
cabin,  however,  before  long  perceived  that  the  violence  of 
the  tempest  was  a  little  abating.  The  thunder  of  the  winds 
and  waves  grew  somewhat  less,  and  though  the  pitching  and 
tossing  of  the  ship  rather  increased  than  diminished,  they 
began  to  cherish  a  little  hope,  Some  of  the  number  even 
fell  into  a  troubled  sleep. 

At  last  there  were  indications  of  the  morning.  The  dim 
forms  of  objects  in  the  cabin  began  to  be  a  little  more  distinct. 
The  grey  light  of  day  looked  down  through  the  narrow  win- 
(\qw  of- the  deck..     As  the  passengers  aroused  themselves  one 


64  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  storm  subsides.  'Jhey  arrive  safely  at  Province  town. 

after  another,  and  looked  forth  from  their  berths,  they  per- 
ceived at  once  that  the  danger  was  over.  Thej  went  to  the 
deck  clinging  to  something  firm  for  support,  for  the  wind  was 
still  brisk,  and  the  sea  still  heaved  and  tumbled  in  great  com- 
motion. But  the  danger  was  over.  The  sky  was  clear. 
A  broad  zone  of  light  extended  itself  in  the  east,  indicating 
the  approaching  sun,  and  not  many  miles  distant  there  was 
extended  a  level  sandy  shore,  lined  with  dwellings,  and  open- 
ing to  a  small  harbor,  filled  with  vessels  which  had  sought 
shelter  there  from  the  fury  of  the  storm.  It  was  Province- 
town,  at  the  extremity  of  the  Cape.  I  need  not  say  that  the 
passengers  and  crew  assembled  once  more,  before  they  land- 
ed, at  the  throne  of  Grace  to  give  thanks  to  God  for  having 
heard  their  prayer  and  granted  them  protection. 


CHAPTER     IV. 

CONSEQUENCES    OF    NEGLECTING    DUTY. 
If  ye  know  these  things,  happy  are  ye  if  ye  do  them. 

I  have  now  in  the  several  chapters  which  the  reader  has 
already  had  the  opportunity  of  perusing,  endeavored  clearly 
to  explain  the  first  steps  to  be  taken  in  Christian  duty,  and 
the  principles  and  feelings  by  which  they  ought  to  be  guid- 
ed, I  think  that  all  who  have  read  these  pages  must  have 
understood  clearly  and  distinctly  what  they  ought  to  do. 
Take  for  example  the  subject  of  the  first  chapter:  Confes- 
sion. You  cannot  read  or  even  think  upon  that  subject  for 
half  an  hour,  without  seeing  plainly  that  you  have  disobey- 
ed God  again  and  again,  and  that  you  have,  by  thus  doing 
what  you  know  to  be  wrong,  destroyed  your  peace  of  mind, 
and  displeased  your  Maker,     This  no  one  can  deny.     There 


CONSEatJENCE    OF   NEGLECTING   DUTY.  65 

Nefflectino-  duty.  I»jury  which  this  book  will  do. 

is  a  vast  variety  of  religious  opinion  and  religious  controver- 
sy in  the  world,  but  I  believe  no  sect  believing  the  existence 
of  a  Deity  was  ever  heard  of,  which  maintained  that  man 
does  not  do  wrong,  or  that  he  ought  not  to  acknowledge  his 
sins  to  God, 

But  when  you  saw  clearly  that  you  had  done  wrong,  and 
destroyed  your  peace,  did  you  go  and  seek  recojiciliation  1 
How  many  probably  read  that  chapter,  and  distinctly  un- 
derstood what  duty  it  urged  upon  them,  and  saw  the  rea- 
sonableness of  that  duty,  and  yet  shut  the  book  and  laid  it 
away,  without  ever  intending  at  all  to  set  resolutely  about 
doing  it.  To  understand  clearly  what  duty  is,  and  to  have 
a  disposition  to  do  it,  are  very  different  things. 

1  have  during  the  preceding  chapters  been  confined  ex- 
clusively to  explaining  what  the  duty  of  my  readers  is.  I  have 
said  scarcely  any  thing  to  persuade  you  to  do  it,  and  as  I 
liave  gone  on  from  page  to  page,  and  endeavored  so  to  ex- 
plain and  illustrate  the  principles  of  piety  that  every  one 
could  clearly  understand,  the  melancholy  reflection  has  often 
forced  itself  upon  me,  "  How  many  now  will  read  or  hear 
read,  these  things,  and  yet  entirely  neglect  to  do  any  thing 
1  describe."  "  Melancholy  reflection  !"  you  will  say,  perhaps, 
"  why  do  you  call  it  a  melancholy  reflection  ?  If  some  are 
induced  to  do  their  duty  in  consequence  of  your  explana- 
tions, you  may  rejoice  in  the  good,  which  is  done,  and  not 
think  at  all  of  those  who  disregarded  what  you  say.  The 
book  will  certainly  do  them  no  harm." 

Will  do  them,  no  harm  ?  I  wish  that  could  be  true.  But 
it  is  not.  The  religious  teacher  cannot  console  himself  with 
the  thought  that  when  his  efforts  do  no  good,  they  will  do  no 
harm.  For  he  must,  if  he  speaks  distinctly,  and  brings  fair- 
ly forward  a  question  of  duty,  cause  every  one  of  his  readers  to 
decide  for  it  or  against  it,  and  when  a  person  decides 
against  duty  is  he  not  injured  1  Is  not  good  principle  defeat- 
ed and  weakened,  and  his  heart  hardened  against  a  future 
appeal  1 

The  chapter  on  Confession  of  Sin  for  example,  has  been 
undoubtedly  read  by  multitudes,  who  shut  the  book  and  laid 
it  aside,  without  at  all  attempting  to  perform  the  duty  there 
pointed  out.  The  duty  was  plainly  brought  before  them.  He 
could  not  and  probably  would  not  deny  its  obligation.  But 
instead  of  going  accordingly  to  God,  and  seeking  peace  and 
reconciliation  to  him  by  a  free  confession  of  guilt, — they  laid 
*6 


66  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

The  disobedieal  child.  The  raes-^age  disregarded.  'I'he  Christian  message. 

the  book  away,  and  after  a  very  short  time,  all  the  serious 
thoughts  it  suggested  vanished  from  their  minds,  and  they 
returned  as  before  to  then-  snis.  Now  this  is  deciding  once 
more,  distinctly,  against  God. 

For  to  decide  against  God  it  is  not  necessary  to  use  the 
actual  language  of  disobedience.  Suppose  that  a  father 
sends  a  child  to  call  back  his  little  sister  who  is  going  aw^ay 
contrary  to  her  father's  wishes.  The  boy  runs  and  overtakes 
her,  and  delivers  his  message.  The  child  stops  a  moment, 
and  listens  to  the  command  that  she  should  return  immedi- 
ately to  her  home.  She  hesitates — thinks  of  her  father  and 
of  her  duty  to  obey  him,  and  then  looks  over  the  green  fields 
through  which  she  was  walking ;  and  longs  to  enjoy  the 
forbidden  pleasure.  There  is  a  momentary  struggle  in  her 
heart,  and  then  she  turns  away  and  walks  boldly  and  care- 
lessly om     The  messenger  returns  slowly  and  sadly  home. 

But  why  does  he  return  sadly  ?  He  has  done  his  duty  in 
delivering  the  message.  Why  should  he  be  sad  ?  He  is  sad 
to  think  of  the  double  guilt  which  his  sister  has  incurred. 
He  thinks  that  the  occasion,  which  his  coming  up  to  his  sis- 
ter presented,  might  have  been  the  means  of  her  return  and 
of  her  forgiveness,  but  that  it  was  the  means  of  confirming 
her  in  disobedience,  and  of  hardening  her  heart  against  the 
claim  of  her  father. 

It  is  just  so  with  the  messages  which  a  Christian  teacher 
brings  to  those  who  listen,  to  his  words.  If  they  do  not  lis- 
ten to  obey,  they  listen  to  reject  and  to  disobev,  and  every 
refusal  to  do  duty,  hardens  the  heart  in  sin.  There  can  be 
no  question  therefore  that  such  a  book  as  this,  must,  in  many 
cases,  be  the  innocent  means  of  fixing  human  souls  in  their 
gins,  as  the  gospel  itself,  while  it  is  a  savor  of  life  unto  life 
to  some,  to  others  is  a  savor  of  death  unto  death. 

Reader,  is  your  name  on  the  sad  catalogue  of  those  who 
read  religious  books  and  listen  to  religious  instniction,  merely 
to  bring  the  question  of  duty  again  and  again  before  your 
minds,  onl}'  to  decide  that  you  will  not  do  it.  If  it  is,  read 
and  consider  attentively  the  narrative  to  which  the  remain- 
'der  of  this  chapter  is  devoted.  It  has  never  before  been  pub- 
lished. I  providentially  met  with  it  in  a  manuscript  while 
writing  these  chapters,  and  it  teaches  so  forcibly  the  lesson 
that  ought  now  to  be  impressed  upon  my  readers,  that  I  re- 
quested of  the  clergyman  who  wrote  it,  permission  to  insert 
it  here.     The  circumstances  are  of  recent  occurrence,  and 


CONSEQUENCE    OF    NEGLECTING    DUTY.  67 

Storj' of  Louisa.  Her  character.  The  iveiiing  meeting. 

the  reader  may  rely  upon  the  strict  truth  and  faithfuhiess  of 
the  description. 

The  reader  will  observe  however  that  there  are  no  remark- 
able incidents  in  this  case.  There  are  no  peculiar  circum- 
stances c»f  any  kind  to  give  interest  to  the  narrative.  It  is 
only  a  plain  common  instance,  such  as  arc  occurring  all 
around  us  by  tens  of  thousands,  of  the  consequences  of  being 
only  almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian. 

STORY    OF    LOUISA, 

"  Shortly  after  my  settlement  in  the  ministry,  I  observed  in 
the  congregation,  a  young  lady  whose  bloomiug  counte- 
nance and  cheerful  air  showed  perfect  health  and  high  ela- 
tion of  spirits.  Her  appearance  satisfied  me  at  once  that 
she  was  amiable  and  thoughtless.  There  was  no  one  of  my 
charge  whose  prospects  for  long  life  were  more  promising 
than  her  own,  and  perhaps  no  one  who  looked  forward  to 
the  future,  with  more  pleasing  hopes  of  enjoyment.  To  her 
eye  the  world  seemed  bright.  She  often  said  she  wished  to 
enjoy  more  of  it  before  she  became  a  Christian. 

Louisa,  (for  by  that  name  I  shall  call  her,)  manifested  no 
particular  hostility  to  religion,  but  wished  to  live  a  gay  and 
merry  life  till  just  before  her  death,  and  then  to  become  pi- 
ous and  die  happy.  She  was  constant  in  her  attendance  at 
church,  and  while  others  seemed  moved  by  the  exhibition  of 
the  Saviour's  love,  she  seemed  entirely  unaffected.  Upon 
whatever  subject  I  preached,  her  countenance  retained  the 
Bame  marks  of  indifference  and  unconcern.  The  same  easy 
smile  played  upon  her  features,  whether  sin  or  death,  or 
Heaven  or  Hell,  was  the  theme  of  discourse.  One  evening 
I  invited  a  few  of  the  young  ladies  of  my  society,  to  meet  at 
my  house.  She  came  with  her  companions.  I  had  sought 
the  interview  with  them  that  I  might  more  directly  urge  up- 
on them  the  importance  of  religion.  All  in  the  room  were 
affected — and  she  though  evidently  moved,  endeavored  to 
conceal  her  feelings. 

The  interest  in  this  great  subject  manifested  by  those 
present,  was  such,  that  I  informed  them  that  I  would  meet 
in  a  week  from  that  time,  any  who  wished  for  personal  con- 
versation. The  appointed  evening  arrived,  and  I  was  de- 
lighted in  seeing,  with  two  or  three  others,  Louisa  enter  my 
house. 


68  ¥0UNG    CHRtstiAN. 


Louisa's  interest  in  Religion.  Conversation  with  her. 

I  conversed  with  each  one  individuallj^  They  generally 
with  much  frankness  expressed  their  state  of  feelnig.-  Most 
of  them  manifested  much  solicitude  respecting  then'  eternal 
interests.  Louisa  appeared  different  from  all  the  rest.  She 
was  anxious  and  unable  to  conceal  her  anxiety,  and  yet  a- 
shamed  to  have  it  known,  She  had  come  to  converse  with 
me  upon  the  subject  of  religion,  and  yet  was  making  an  evi- 
dent effort  to  appear  indifferent.  I  had  long  felt  mterested 
in  Louisa,  and  was  glad  of  this  opportunity  to  converse  with 
her. 

"  Louisa,"  said  I,  "  I  am  happy  to  see  3^ou  here  this  eve- 
ning, and  particularly  so,  knowing  that  you  have  come  in- 
terested in  religion." 

She  made  no  reply. 

"  Have  you  long  been  thinking  upon  this  subject,  Louisa  V^ 

"  I  always  thought  the  subject  important  sir,  but  have  not 
attended  to  it  as  I  suppose  I  ought." 

"  Do  you  7L0W  feel  the  subject  to  be  more  im^portant  than 
you  have  previously?" 

"  I  don't  know  su- ;   I  think  I  want  to  be  a  Christian." 

"  Do  you  feel  that  you  are  a  sinner,  LouLsa  ?" 
"  I  know  that  I  am  a  sinner  for  the  Bible  saj^s  so,  but  I 
suppose  that  J.  do  not  feel  it  enough." 

"  Can  you  expect  that  God  will  receive  you  into  his  favor 
while  you  are  in  such  a  state  of  mind  as  that?  He  has  made 
you  and  he  is  now  taking  care  of  you,  giving  3-ou  every 
blessing  and  every  enjoyment  you  have,  and  yet  you  have 
lived  many  years  without  any  gratitude  to  him,  and  contin- 
ually breaking  his  commandments,  and  now  do  noi  fed  that 
you  are  a  sinner.  What  should  you  think  of  a  child,  whose 
kind  and  affectionate  parents  had  done  every  thing  in  their 
power  to  make  happy,  and  who  should  yet  not  feel  that  she 
had  done  any  thing  wrong,  though  she  had  been  eveiy  day 
disobe3ang  her  parents  and  had  never  expressed  any  grati- 
tude for  their  kindness  ?  You  Louisa  would  abhor  such  a 
child.  And  yet  this  is  the  way  you  have  been  treating  your 
Heavenly  Father.  And  he  has  heard  you  say  this  evening, 
that  3'oii  do  not  feel  that  you  have  done  wrong,  and  he  sees 
youi  heart  and  knows  how  unfeeling  it  is.  Now  Louisa, 
you  must  be  lost,  unless  you  repent  of  your  sins  and  ask 
humbly  and  earnestly  for  forgiveness.  And  ^vhy  will  you 
not  ?  You  know  that  Christ  has^  died  to  atone  for  your  sins. 
God  will  forgive  you  for  his  Son's  sake,  if  yo  t  are  penitent. 


CONSEQUENCE    OF    NEGLECTING    DUTY.  69 


Increasing  interest.  Unwilling  lo  yield  to  (Jod. 


To  this  Louisa  made  no  reply.  She  did  not  seem  displeas- 
ed, neither  did  her  feelings  appear  subdued. 

After  addressing  a  few  general  remarks  to  my  young 
friends,  we  kneeled  in  prayer,  and  the  interview  closed. 
Another  meeting  was  appointed  on  the  same  evening  of  the 
succeeding  week.  Louisa  again  made  her  appearance  with 
the  same  young  ladies,  and  a  few  others  who  were  not  pres- 
ent the  first  evening.  She  appeared  much  more  deeply  im- 
pressed. Her  coldness  and  reserve  had  given  place  to  a 
frank  expression  of  interest,  and  exhibition  of  feehng. 

"  Well  Louisa,"  said  I,  as  in  turn,  I  commenced  conver- 
sation with  her,  "  I  was  almost  afraid  that  I  should  not  see 
you  here  this  evening." 

"  I  feel  sir,"  said  she,  "  that  it  is  time  for  me  to  attend  to 
my  immortal  soul.     I  have  neglected  it  too  long." 
"  Do  you  feel  that  you  are  a  sinner,  Louisa?" 
"  Yes  sir,  I  do." 

"  Do  you  think  Louisa  you  have  any  claim  upon  God  to 
forgive  you?" 

*'  No  sir.  It  would  be  just  in  God  to  leave  me  to  perish. 
I  think  I  want  to  repent,  but  I  cannot.  I  want  to  love  God, 
but  I  do  not  know  how  I  can." 

"  Do  you  remember  Louisa  that  Christ  has  said  "  W hOSO- 
ever  he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he  hath,  he  can- 
not be  my  disciple?" 
-  Yes  sir." 

"  Well  Louisa  now  count  the  cost ;  are  you  ready  to  give 
up  all  for  Christ  ?  Are  you  ready  to  turn  from  your  gay 
companions,  and  lay  aside  your  frivolous  pleasures  and  ac- 
knowledge the  Saviour  publicly,  and  be  derided,  as  perhaps 
you  will  be,  by  your  former  friends,  and  live  a  life  of  prayer 
and  of  effort  to  do  good  ?" 

She  hesitated  for  a  moment,  and  then  rephed,  "lam 
afraid  not." 

"Well  Louisa  the  terms  of  acceptance  with  God,  are 
plain,  and  there  is  no  altering  them.  You  cannot  serve  God 
and  Mammon.  If  you  would  be  a  Christian  you  must  re- 
nounce all  sin,  and  with  a  broken  heart  surrender  yourself 
entirely  to  the  Saviour" 

The  evening's  interview  closed  as  before,  and  a  similar 
appointment  w°as  made  for  the  next  week.  Some  of  the 
young  ladies  present,  I  had  reason  to  believe,  had  accepted 
the  tel-ms  of  salvation.     The  next  week  about  the  same  num. 


70 


YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Her  sickness.  She  sends  lor  her  pastor.  Her  alarm. 

ber  were  present,  but  Louisa  was  not  with  them.  A  sHght 
cold  had  detained  her.  But  tiie  week  after  she  agam  ap- 
peared. To  my  great  disappointment  I  found  her  mterest 
fast  dnninishnig.  Though  not  exhibiting  that  cold  reserve 
which  she  at  first  manifested,  she  seemed  far  less  anxious 
than  at  our  last  interview.  The  spirit  was  grieved  away. 
This  was  the  last  time  she  called  to  see  me ;  but  alas  1  was 
soon  called  to  see  her,  under  circumstances  which  at  that 
time,  were  but  little  anticipated.  These,  social  meetings 
continued  for  some  time,  and  many  of  Louisa's  associates  I 
have  cause  to  ho^De  became  the  disciples  of  Jesus. 

Two  or  three  months  passed  away,  ?aid  my  various  duties 
so  far  engrossed  my  mind,  that  my  particular  interest  in 
Louisa's  spiritual  welfare  had  given  i  jlace  to  other  solicitudes,, 
when  one  day  as  I  was  riding  out,  making  parochial  visits, 
one  of  my  parishioners  informed  i\ie  that  she  was  quite  un- 
well, and  desired  to  see  me.  In  a  few  moments  I  was  in 
her  sick  chamber.  She  had  tak.en  a  violent  cold,  and  it  had 
settled  into  a  fever.  She  was  lying  in  her  bed,  her  cheek 
glowing  with  the  feverish  hu  e,  and^'her  lips  parched  with 
thirst.  She  seemed  agitated  when  I  entered  the  room,  and 
the  moment  T  stood  by  her  bef""  iside  a.nrl  eacpiired  how  she  did, 
she  ouvcicd  liCi  fcvts.  ^ir;tK  v,Qt  .Ij.  i^.^^^„  _„a  v^.^-.*  ;«*<?  c«,  flood 
of  tears. 

Her  sister  who  was  by  hf  jr  bedside,  immediately  turned  to 
-me  and  said,  "  Sir,  she  is  in  great  distress  of  mind.  Men- 
tal anxiety  has  Icept  her  awake  nearly  all  night.  She  has 
wanted  very  much  to  see  you,  that  vou  might  converse  with 
her." 

I  was  fearful  that  tl.ie  agitation  of  her  feeling.j,  might 
seriously  injuie  her  hea'lth,  and  did  all  in  my  power  to  soothe 
and  pacify. 

"  But  sir,"  said  Louif  ia,  "  I  am,  sick  and  may  die,  I  know 
that  I  am  not  a  Chri?  jtian,  and  Oh  if  I  die  in  this  state  of 
mind,  what  will  becom.e  of  me  ?  What  will  become  of  me  ?" 
and  again  shebur.st  in  to  tears. 

What  could  I  say  ?  Every  word  she  said  was  true.  Her 
€yes  were  opened  to  her  danger.  There  was  cause  for 
^larm.  Sickness  was  upon  her.  Delirium  might  soon  ensue. 
Death  mifrhr  be  very  near  and  her  soul  was  unprepored  to 
appear  before  God.  She  saw  it  all.  She /(f;/Ht  all.  Fever 
Avas  burning  in  her  v  eins.  But  she  forgot  her  pain,  in  vie'w^ 
of  the  terroTs  of  appro  .achipg  jiid^ment. 


CONSEQUENCE    OF    NEGLECTING    DUTY.  71 

Her  increasing  anxiety  and  alarm.  Death  bed  repentance. 

I  told  her  that  the  Lord  was  good,  and  that  his  tender 
mercies  were  over  all  his  works.  I'hat  He  was  more  ready 
to  forgive,  than  we  to  ask  forgiveness. 

"  But  sir,"  said  she,  "  I  have  known  my  duty  long,  and 
have  not  done  it.  I  have  been  ashamed  of  the  Saviour,  and 
grieved  away  the  Spirit,  and  now  I  am  upon  a  sick  bed,  and 
perhaps  must  die.  Oh  if  I  were  but  a  Christian  1  should  be 
willmg  to  die." 

1  told  her  of  the  Saviour's  love.  I  pointed  to  many  of 
'God's  precious  promises  to  the  penitent.  1  endeavored  to  in- 
duce her  to  resign  her  soul  calmly  to  the  Saviour.  But  all  that 
was  offered  was  unavailing.  Trembling  and  agitated  she  was 
looking  forward  to  the  dark  future.  The  spirit  of  the  Lord 
had  opened  her  eyes  to  the  truth,  and  by  her  own  reflections, 
had  led  her  into  this  state  of  seasonable  alarm.  The  inter- 
view was  indeed  an  aflfecting  one,  anxiety  was  depicted  upon 
her  flushed  countenance,  and  she  was  restless,  and  groanmg 
under  the  accumulated  ills  of  body  and  of  mmd.  I  knelt 
by  her  bedside  and  fervently  prayed  that  the  Holy  Spirit 
would  guide  her  to  the  truth,  and  that  the  Saviour  would 
speak  peace  to  her  troubled  soul.  Oh  could  they,  who  are 
postponing  repentance  to  a  sick  bed,  have  witnessed  the 
mournful  suffering  of  this  once  merry  girl,  they  would  shud- 
der at  the  thought  of  a  death  bed  repentance.  How  poor  a 
time  to  prepare  to  meet  God,  when  the  mind  is  enfeebled  by 
disease,  when  the  body  is  restless  or  even  racked  with  pain, 
and  when  mental  agitation  fmstrates  the  skill  of  the  physi- 
cian. Yet  so  it  is.  One  half  of  the  world  are  postponing 
repentance  to  a  dying  hour.  And  when  sickness  comes,  the 
very  knowledge  of  being  unprepared  for  death,  hurries  the 
miserable  victim  of  delay  to  the  grave. 

The  next  day  I  called  again  to  see  Louisa.  Her  fever 
was  still  raging  and  its  fires  were  fanned  by  mental  suflfer- 
ing.  Poor  girl !  thought  I,  as  the  first  glance  upon  her 
countenance  showed  me  the  strong  lineaments  of  despair.  I 
needed  not  to  ask  her  how  she  felt.  Her  countenance  told 
too  powerfully  her  feelings.  And  I  knew  that  while  her 
mind  was  in  this  state,  restoration  to  bodily  health  was  out 
of  the  question. 

"  And  can  you  not  Louisa"  said  I  "  trust  your  soul  with 
the  blessed  Saviour  who  died  for  you.  He  has  said,'  '  come 
unto  me  all  ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest." 


72  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Increasing  sickness,  and  menial  suffering.  Danger. 

"  Oh  sir,  I  know  that  the  Saviour  is  merciful,  but  some- 
how or  other  I  cannot  go  to  him,  1  do  not  know  why, — Oh  I 
am  miserable  indeed." 

"  Do  you  think  Louisa  that  you  are  penitent  for  sin  ?  If 
you  are,  you  are  forgiven,  for  God  who  gave  his  son  to  die 
for  us,  is  more  ready  to  forgive  than  we  to  ask  forgiveness. 
He  is  more  ready  to  give  good  gifts  to  his  children  than  any 
earthly  parent  to  give  bread  to  his  hungry  child." 

I  then  opened  the  Bible  to  the  15th  chapter  of  Luke,  and 
read  the  parable  of  the  prodigal  son.  I  particularly  directed 
her  attention  to  the  20th  verse  :  "  But  when  he  was  yet  a 
great  way  off,  his  father  saw  him,  and  had  compassion,  and 
ran,  and  fell  upon  his  neck  and  kissed  him." 

"  Oh  sir,"  said  she  "  none  of  those  promises  seem  meant 
for  me.  I  can  find  no  peace  to  my  troubled  spirit.  I  have 
long  been  sinning  against  God,  and  now  he  is  going  to  take 
me,  tor  ender  up  my  account,  and  Gh !  what  an  account  ha\^ 
I  to  render.  The  Doctor  gives  me  medicine,  but  I  feel  that 
it  does  me  no  good,  for  I  can  think  of  nothing  but  my  pool 
soul.  Even  if  I  were  perfectly  well,  I  could  hardly  endure 
the  view  of  my  sins  which  God  has  given  me.  If  my  sins 
were  forgiven,  how  happy  should  I  be  :  but  now — Gh !" — 
her  voice  was  stopped  by  a  fit  of  shuddering  which  very 
much  agitated  those  around  her  bedside,  with  the  fear  that 
she  might  be  dying.  Soon  however  her  nerves  became  more 
quiet,  and  I  kneeled  by  her  bedside  to  commend  her  spirit  to 
the  Lord. 

As  I  rode  home  her  despairing  countenance  was  unceas- 
ingly before  my  eyes.  Her  lamentations  and  her  mournful 
groans  were  continually  crying  in  my  ears.  As  I  kneeled 
with  my  family  at  the  domestic  altar,  I  bore  Louisa  upon^ 
my  heart  to  the  throne  of  grace.  All  night  I  tossed  rest- 
lessly upon  my  pillow,  dreaming  that  I  was  urging  consola- 
tion by  this  sick  bed. 

Another  morning  came.  As  I  knocked  at  the  door  of  her 
dwelling  I  felt  a  most  painful  solicitude  as  to  the  answer  I 
might  receive  to  my  enquiries  for  her. 

"  How  is  Louisa,  this  morning  ?"  said  I  to  the  person  who 
opened  the  door. 

"  She  is  fast  failing  sir,  and  the  Doctor  thinks  she  cannot 
recover.  We  have  just  sent  to  her  friends  to  come  and  seft 
her  before  she  dies." 

"  Is  her  mind  any  more  composed  than  it  has  been  ?" 


CONSEQUENCES  OF  NEGLECTING  DUTY.       73 

Louisa's  despair.  Her  advice  to  her  young  friends. 

"  Oh  DO  sir.  She  has  had  a  dreadful  night.  She  sajs 
that  she  is  lost,  and  that  there  is  no  hope  for  her." 

I  went  into  her  chamber.  Despair  was  pictured  more 
deeply  than  ever,  upon  her  flushed  and  fevered  countenance. 
I  was  surprised  at  the  strength  of  body  she  still  manifested, 
as  she  continually  turned  from  side  to  side  in  her  restlessness. 
Death  was  drawing  nearer.  She  knew  it.  She  had  lived 
in  the  world  without  God,  and  she  felt  that  she  was  unpre- 
pared to  appear  before  him.  A  few  of  her  young  friends 
were  stancUng  by  her  bedside.  She  warned  them  in  the 
most  affectmg  terms,  to  prepare  for  death  while  in  health. 
She  told  them  of  the  mental  agony  she  was  then  enduring,  and 
of  the  woes  which  were  thickly  scattered  through  that  end- 
less career  she  was  about  to  enter.  All  her  conversation 
was  interspersed  with  the  most  heart  rending  exclamations 
of  despair.  She  said  she  knew  that  God  was  ready  to  for- 
give the  sincerely  penitent,  but  that  her  sorrow  was  not  sor- 
row for  sin,  but  dread  of  its  awful  penalty. 

I  had  already  said  all  that  I  could  say  to  lead  her  to  the 
Saviour.  Indeed  her  understanding  seemed  to  be  sufficiently 
enlightened,  but  the  Lord  had  come  to  her  and  shewed  her 
the  sinfulness  of  her  unreconciled  heart.  Who  could  stand 
and  witness  such  a  scene  as  this,  knowing  that  the  tremb- 
ling immortal  was  soon  to  be  ushered  into  eternity,  and  not 
pray  almost  with  an  agony  of  earnestness,  that  God  would 
have  mercy  upon  her  soul.  And  how  evident  must  it  have 
been  to  any  one,  that  there  was  no  power  but  divine  power, 
which  could  liberate  her  mind  from  the  gloom  and  dark- 
ness in  which  it  was  enveloped.  It  was  God  who  had 
opened  her  eyes  to  a  view  of  her  situation ;  it  was  God  who 
had  rolled  over  the  mind  these  surges  of  despair  ;  and  it  was 
God  who  alone  could  say  to  them  "peace  be  still." 

"  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are." 

But  no  Saviour  was  casting  his  love  around  this  dying 
bed.  No  rays  of  peace  beamed  upon  that  departing  soul. 
Youth  and  beauty  were  struggling  beneath  the  strong  arm 
of  death,  and  as  that  eye,  which  but  a  few  days  before,  had 
sparkled  with  gaiety,  gazed  forward  to  eternity,  it  was  fixed 
in  an  expression  of  despair. 

"  By  many  a  death  bed  I  had  been 
And  many  a  sinner's  parting  scene, 
But  never  aught  like  this." 

7 


74  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Last  visit.  Her  suflerings.  She  dies  at  midnight. 

There  was  nothing  that  could  be  said.  The  moanings 
of  the  suft'erer  mingled  with  the  prayer,  which  was  almost 
inarticulately  uttered,  from  the  emotions  which  the  scene  in- 
spired. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  I  called  again.  But  reason  was 
disenthroned,  and  as  I  looked  upon  her  restless  movements,  I 
was  forcibly  reminded  of  the  lines  of  Watts. 

"  So  when  a  raging  fever  burns, 

We  turn  from  side  to  side  by  turns ; 

And  'tis  a  poor  relief  we  gain, 

To  change  the  place  but  keep  the  pain." 

The  senseless  moanings  of  delirium  showed  the  distress 
even  of  her  shattered  mind.  Her  friends  were  standing 
around  her,  but  she  did  not  recognize  them.  Every  ej^e  in 
the  room  was  filled  with  tears,  but  poor  Louisa  sav/  not  and 
heeded  not  their  weeping.  It  was  a  scene  which  neither 
pen  nor  pencil  can  portray.  At  the  present  moment  that 
chamber  of  death,  is  as  vividly  present  to  my  "  mind's  eye" 
as  it  was  when  I  looked  upon  it  through  irrepressible  tears. 
I  can  now  see  the  disorder  of  the  dying  bed, — the  restless 
form, — the  swollen  veins, — the  hectic  burning  cheek, — the 
eyes  rolling  wildly  around  the  room, — and  the  weeping 
friends.  Who  can  describe  such  a  scene  ?  And  who  can 
imagine  the  emotions  which  one  must  feel,  who  knew  her 
previous  history,  and  who  knew  that  this  delirium  succeeded 
temporal,  and  perhaps  preceded  eternal  despair.  Louisa 
could  no  longer  listen  to  my  prayers ;  she  could  no  longer  re- 
ceive the  precious  instructions  of  God's  holy  word.  And 
what  coLild  be  offered  as  consolation  to  her  friends.  Noth- 
ing. "  Be  still  and  know  that  I  am  God,"  was  all  that  could 
be  said.  I  could  only  look  and  listen  with  reverence,  inward- 
ly praying  that  the  sad  spectacle  might  not  be  lost  upon  any 
of  us.  For  some  time  I  lingered  around  the  solemn  scene  in 
silence.  Not  a  word  was  spoken.  All  knew  that  death 
was  near.  The  friends  who  were  most  deeply  affected, 
Struggled  hard  to  restrain  the  audible  expression  of  grief  In 
silence  I  had  entered  the  room,  and  in  silence  and  sadness  I 
went  away. 

Early  the  next  morning  I  called  at  the  door  to  inquire  for 
Louisa. 

"  She  is  dead  sir,"  was  the  reply  to  my  question. 

"  At  what  time  did  she  die?" 

*'  About  midnight  sir." 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN.  75 


Her  feelings  at  last.  Almost  a  Christian. 


"  Was  her  reason  restored  to  her  before  her  death  ?" 
"  It  appeared  partially  to  return  a  few  moments  before  she 
breathed  her  last,  but  she  was  almost  gone,  and  we  could 
hardly  understand  what  she  said." 

"  Did  she  seem  to  be  in  any  more  peaceful  frame  of  mind  ?" 
"  Her  friends  thought,  sir,  that  she  did  express  a  willing- 
ness to  depart,  but  she  was  so  weak  and  so  far  gone,  that  it 
was  impossible  for  her  to  express  her  mind  with  any  clear- 
ness." 

The  next  time  I  called  at  the  house,  Louisa  was  pale  in 
her  coffin,  cold  and  lifeless  in  her  shroud.  Her  friends  had 
assembled  to  attend  her  funeral,  and  from  every  part  of  the 
room,  loud  sobs  interrupted  my  address  and  prayer.  Her 
body  now  moulders  in  the  grave  yard,  and  her  Spirit  has  eri- 
tered  upon  its  eternal  home." 


CHAPTER     V. 

ALMOST        A       CHRISTIAN. 
"  Ye  will  not  come  unto  me." 

The  melancholy  story  related  in  the  last  chapter  is  not  an 
uncommon  one.  It  is  the  story  of  thousands.  All  that  is 
necessary,  reader,  to  make  that  case  your  own,  is  that  you 
should  feel  such  a  degree  of  interest  in  religious  duties  as  to 
open  your  eyes  clearly  to  their  demands,  but  yet  not  enough 
to  induce  you  cordially  to  comply  with  them, — and  then  that 
death  should  openly  approach  you,  while  you  are  thus  un- 
prepared. The  gloom  V  forebodings  and  the  dreadful  remorse 
which  darkened  Louisa's  last  hours,  must  in  such  a  case  be 
your^. 

It  was  not  mv  intention  when  forming  the  plan  of  this 
work,  to  have  it  present  religious  truth  and  duty  in  gloomy 
or  melancholy  aspects.  Religion  is  a  most  cheerful  and 
happy  thing  to  practice,  but  a  most  sad  and  melancholy 


76  YOUNG    CIIKISTIAN. 


Lqiusa's  chso  h  cuminoii  oao.   Mo)(locuiiii  iliii.v,  whou  U  is  dourly  poiiiicd  out. 

thing-  to  nvii/cct,  nuii  us  iu\tloubliHllj'  tioiuo  wlio  read  this 
book,  will  road  il  only  to  undrrsitauil  lluMi  liuiv,  without  at 
all  s^otinig  their  lu^arts  upon  the  peit"ouuanei>  ol  it,  I  ought  to 
devote  one  or  twochajUers  inirtuulurlv  to  ihem.  The  ease  of 
LuuissH  though  U  was  a  nielaneholv  one.  was  trai  Anil  what 
has  onee  occurreil,  uuiv  oeeur  agjun.  \ Du  wUl  ohstuve  loo 
that  all  the  sutieiing  whieh  she  nuvnilesled  in  her  ilvitig  liour 
was  the  work  ot"  eonsruMne.  'I'he  nunist(>r  did  all  he  could 
to  soothe  and  ealni  lun\  Kxanuiu*  all  the  eonv(>isalion  he 
luui  with  her,  at  her  Unlside.  and  vou  will  tlnd  that  it  was  the 
language  ol"  kiiul  invitation.  lie  did  all  m  his  power  to 
allay  the  storm  which  conscieucc.  uu  nunc  iioweilul  than  ho, 
was  urging. 

Sonietinies  such  a  dviugsctna^  as  tins  is  ilu^  ihmIiou  i^l"  an 
individual  who  has  lived  a  lite  ot' open  aiul  uubridUHi  wick- 
edness. Hut,  generallv,  contiiuuHl  impiety  and  vic(\  lulls 
the  conscience  into  a  slumber  which  it  requires  a  stronger 
power  than  that  of  sickness  ov  approaching  dt>ath  to  awaken. 
Louisa  was  Ai.Mt>sr  \  (.'hkistian.  She  was  nearly  per- 
suaded to  begin  a  lite  ot'  piety.  In  just  such  a  state  of 
mind,  my  reader,  as  it  is  very  priU)able  you  may  be.  I\t- 
haj^s  since  you  have  been  reading  this  book  you  have  bctui 
thinking  more  and  more  serunisly  ot"  your  Christian  duty, 
and  tell  a  stronger  and  stronger  intention  of  doing  it.  at  least 
at  some  t'utnre  time.  \"ou  ought  after  having  read  thelirst 
chapter,  to  have  gone  at  once  and  I'ully  confessed  all  your 
sins  to  liod.  aiul  mailc  your  peace  with  lum.  When  you 
read  the  second,  you  should  have  cordially  wcUhmiuhI  tho 
Saviour  as  your  friend,  and  chostni  him  as  your  Hedeemer 
and  jH)rlion.  Von  ought  to  have  been  induced  by  the  third 
to  begin  immediately  a  life  of  prayer,  and  to  have  been  con- 
stant ami  ardent  nt  the  throne  of  Orace  since  you  rend  it. 
But  perhaps  you  neglected  doing  nil  these  things.  You 
understand  very  clearly  what  Christian  duty  is.  It  is 
plain  to  you  that  there  is  a  lacing  above  with  ^vhom  voii 
ought  to  live  in  constant  ciunmunion.  You  \uulerstnnd 
clearly,  how  you  nre  to  begin  your  duty,  if  you  hnve  nt^g- 
looted  it  heretolore. — by  coming  and  confessing  all  your 
sins,  nnd  seeking  forgivenefis  tluvugh  .lesus  Chiist  who  has 
died  for  you.  Thus  you  know  cleavly  what  duty  is.  'J'he 
solitary  ditficuUy  is  that  you  will  vot  do  it. 

Hut  why?    What  can  be  the  cause  of  that  apparent  in- 
fatuation which  consists  in  continually  neglecting  tv  duty 


ALMOHT    A    CHRIHTIAN.  77 


(Uutunon  VAine.        Hccrel  cau«M'»  of  coriliuuifij^  in  siu.       Frocrsutiualioo. 

which  yon  aokriowlc'I;/c  to  be  a  duly,  and  which  you  know 
it  would  mvAdixm  your  happmess  to  jxirforrn'/  Were  I  to  ask 
you  1  kfiow  iixncliy  whxl  yon  would  Kay.  At  least  it  is 
vary  jjrobable  you  would  »ay  what  I  have  known  a  great 
many  othern  to  say  in  your  situation.      It  would  be  this, 

"  I  know  I  arn  a  sinner  aj^amst  God,  arid  I  wish  to  rej>crit 
and  \ni  i'()c<riV(ia  and  to  love  and  serve  my  Maker,  but  /  do  -not 
Hcji  hou)  I  cdnr 

My  reader,  ia  this  yov/r  state  of  mind  ?  Many  [Xirsons  do 
use  this  lanj^uagc  and  use  it  honestly.  That  is,  they  use  it 
honestly,  if  they  mean  by  it,  what  the  languag-e  properly 
does  mean,  that  they  see  the  propriety  and  duty,  and  the 
hap[)inea3  of  a  new  life,  so  that  in  some  sense  they  desjre  it, 
but  that  some  secret  cause,  which  they  have  not  yet  dis- 
covered prevents  their  ohedience,  I  design  in  this  chajjler, 
to  help  you  to  discover  what  that  cause  is.  If  you  really 
wish  to  discover  and  to  remove  it,  you  will  read  the  chapter 
carefully, — with  a  willingness  to  Vje  convinced,  and  you  will 
often  {iause  to  apply  what  is  said  to  your  own  case. 

There  are  th'rp,e.  very  common  causes,  which  often  operate 
to  prevent  persons  who  are  almost  Ckrintians  from  becoming 
rfo  altogethfir. 

I.  A  spirit  of  jrrocrasLinrjAion.  Waiting  for  a  more  con- 
venient season.  The  following  case  illustrates  this  part  of 
our  subject. 

A  boy  of  about  twelve  or  fourteen  years  of  age,  a  member 
of  an  Acarlemy  in  which  he  was  pursuing  his  studies  preijar- 
atory  to  his  admission  to  College,  sees  the  duty  of  com- 
mencing a  Christian  life.  Me  walks  some  evening  at  .sun- 
set, alone,  over  the  green  fields  which  surround  the  village 
in  which  he  resides,  and  the  stillness  and  beauty  of  the  scene 
around  him  brings  him  to  a  serious  and  thoughtful  frame  of 
jnind.  God  is  speaking  to  him  in  the  features  of  beauty  and 
of  splendor  in  which  the  face  of  nature  is  decked.  7'he  glo- 
rious westf-rn  sky  reminds  him  of  the  hand  which  sprearl  its 
glowing  colors,  fie  looks  into  the  dark  grove  in  the  edge  of 
which  he  is  walking,  and  its  expression  of  deep,  unbroken 
solitude,  brings  a  feeling  of  calm  solemnity  over  his 
iV)\\\.  The  declining  sun, — the  last  famt  whisfxirs  of  the 
dying  evening  hr<'jtzf% — the  solitary  and  mournful  note, 
which  cornr^H  to  him  from  a  lofty  branch  of  s^jrne  tall  tree 
in  the  depth  of  tbe  forest, — these,  ana  the  thousand  other  cir- 
cumstances of  such  a  scene,  speak  to  hirn  most  distinctly  of 
•7 


78  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  student's  evening  walks.      'I'he  admission  to  College.       iiesoluiion. 

the  flight  of  time,  and  of  the  approach  of  that  evening  when 
the  sun  of  his  life  is  to  dechne,  and  this  world  cease  forev- 
er to  be  his  home. 

As  he  muses  in  this  scene,  he  feels  the  necessity  of  a  pre- 
paration for  death,  and  as  he  walks  slowly  homeward,  he  is  al- 
most determined  to  come  at  once  to  the  conclusion,  to  com- 
mence immediately  a  life  of  piety.  He  reflects  however  up- 
on the  unpleasant  pubhcity  of  such  a  change.  He  has 
many  irreligious  friends  whom  it  is  hard  to  relinquish,  and 
he  shrinks  from  forming  new  acquaintances  in  a  place  he 
is  so  soon  to  leave.  He  reflects  that  he  is  soon  to  be  trans- 
ferred to  College,  and  that  there  he  can  begin  anew.  He 
resolves  that  when  he  enters  college  walls,  he  wall  enter  a 
Christian.  That  he  will,  from  the  hrst,  be  known  as  one  de- 
termined to  do  his  duty  towards  God.  He  wall  form  no  irre- 
ligious friendships,  and  then  he  will  have  none  to  sunder.  He 
will  fall  into  no  irreligious  practises,  and  then  he  will  have 
none  to  abandon.  He  thinks  he  can  thus  avoid  the  awkward- 
ness of  a  public  change.  He  is  ungenerous  enough  to  wish  to 
steal  thus  secretly  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  without  hum- 
bling any  of  his  pride  by  an  open  admission  that  he  has  been 
wrong.     He  waits  for  a  more  convenient  season. 

When  he  finds  himself  on  College  ground  however,  his 
heart  does  hot  turn  any  more  easily  to  his  duties  towards 
God.  First  there  is  the  feverish  interest  of  the  examination, 
— then  the  novelty  of  the  public  recitation  room, — the  un- 
tried, unknown  instructer, — the  new  room  mate, — and  all 
the  multiplied  and  varied  excitements  which  are  always  to 
be  found  in  College  walls.  There  are  new  acquaintances  to 
form,  new  countenances  to  speculate  upon,  and  new  charac- 
ters to  study,  and  in  these  and  similar  objects  of  occupation 
and  interest,  week  after  week  glides  rapidly  away.  At  last 
one  Saturday  evening,  the  last  of  the  term,  he  is  walking 
over  the  College  grounds,  and  among  the  other  serious  re- 
flections that  come  upon  his  mind,  there  ore  the  following. 

"  One  whole  term  has  now  passed,  and  what  have  become 
of  all  my  resolutions  to  return  to  God.  How  swiftly  the 
weeks  have  glided  away,  and  1  have  been  going  farther  and 
farther  from  God  and  from  duty.  I  find  that  I  cannot,  in 
College,  any  more  than  in  any  other  place,  become  a  Chris- 
tian without  eff'ort  and  self  denial.  1  must  come  boldly  to  the 
duty  of  giving  up  my  heart  to  God  and  commencing  publicly 
a  Christian  life,  and  whenever  I  do  this  it  must  be  hard  at  first. 
I  will  attend  to  the  subject  this  vacation.     I  shall  be  quiet 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN.  79 

Resolutions  for  vacaiioii ;  for  senior  year}  for  future  life. 

and  retired  at  home,  and  shall  have  a  favorable  opportunity 
there  to  attend  to  my  duty  and  make  my  peace  with  God. 
I  will  come  back  to  College,  next  term,  a  new  man." 

Such  are  his  reflections.  Instead  of  resolving  to  do  his 
duty  now,  he  looks  forward  again,  notwithstanding  his  form- 
er disappointment,  to  another  more  convenient  season.  1  he 
busile  of  the  closing  term,  and  the  plans  and  preparations  for. 
the  approaching  vacation  soon  engross  his  mind,  and  instead 
of  coming  to  his  Maker  at  once,  and  going  home  a  Christian, 
he  puts  it  off  in  hopes  to  return  one.  Vain  hope  !  He  will 
undoubtedly  come  back  as  he  goes,  procrastinating  duty. 

Term  after  term,  and  vacation  after  vacation  passes  away, 
and  the  work  of  preparing  for  another  world  is  still  postpon- 
ed and  neglected.  The  longer  it  is  postponed  the  worse  it 
is,  for  he  is  becoming  more  and  more  known  as  an  irre- 
ligious young  man,  and  becomes  more  and  more  intimately 
connected  with  those  whose  influence  is  all  against  religion. 
He  soon  quiets  conscience  with  the  reflection  that  while  he 
is  in  the  lower  classes,  he  is  much  more  under  the  control  of 
public  opinion ;  others,  older  and  more  advanced  than  he, 
take  the  lead  in  forming  the  sentiments  of  the  community, 
and  it  is  harder  for  him  to  act  independently  now,  on  a  sub- 
ject which  affects  his  standing  in  the  estimation  of  his  com- 
panions, than  it  will  be  when  he  shall  have  passed  on  to  a 
higher  class,  and  shall  have  influence  in  forming  a  public 
sentiment,  to  act  upon  others,  instead  of  having  others  form 
it  for  him. 

The  closing  months  of  college  life  at  last  come  on,  bring- 
ing with  them  less  and  less  disposition  to  do  his  Awly.  He 
has  become  familiarized  to  the  idea  of  living  without  God. 
His  long  and  intimate  acquaintance  with  irreligious  com- 
panions has  bound  him  to  them  by  ties,  which  he  is  not 
willing  to  sunder.  Not  ties  of  aflfection  ;  for  there  is  seldom 
much  confidence  or  love  in  such  a  case.  They  are  ties  of 
mere  acquaintance, — mere  community  of  sentiment  and  ac- 
tion, he  dreads  to  break  away  from  what  gives  him  lit- 
tle pleasure,  and  is  thus  bound  by  a  mysterious  and  unrea- 
sonable, but  almost  hopeless  slavery.  He  leaves  College 
either  utterly  confirmed  in  insensibility  to  religious  tmth, 
or  else,  when  he  occasionally  thinks  of  the  sulDJect,  faintly 
hoping  that,  in  the  bustle  of  future  life,  some  more  conven- 
ient season  may  occur,  w^hich  he  may  seize  as  a  time  for 
making  his  peace  with  God. 


80  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Wow  is  ilie  accepted  lime.  Second  cause  j  love  of  the  World. 

This  is  the  history  of  many  a  college  student,  and  by  a 
slight  change  of  the  circumstances  of  the  description,  it 
might  be  made  the  history  of  thousands  of  others  ni  every 
walk  of  life.  The  secret  of  this  procrastination  is  this. 
The  subject  of  it  is  deluded  by  the  chimerical  hope  of  finding- 
some  opportunity  of  coming  to  God,  without  real  submission, 
of  changing  sides  on  a  most  momentous  subject,  without  the 
mortilicalion  of  changing, — of  getting  right  without  the  hu- 
miliaimg  acknowledgement  of  having  been  wrong.  Now 
these  ditficulties,  which  constitute  the  straightness  of  the 
gate  through  which  we  must  enter,  cannot  be  avoided.  We 
cannot  go  round  them, — we  cannot  climb  up  some  other 
way,  and  it  is  useless  to  wait  for  some  other  way  to  offer. 
The  work  of  coming  directly  and  decidedly  to  your  Maker, 
to  confess  sin  and  to  ask  its  forgiveness  must  be  done.  The 
public  acknowledgement  that  you  have  been  wrong,  which 
a  public  change  of  conduct  implies,  must  be  made,  and  it  will 
be  painful,  irreligious  friends  must,  as  intimates  and  asso- 
ciates, be  abandoned,  and  whenever  that  is  done  it  icill  re- 
quire an  effort.  These  steps  must  be  taken,  and  the  difficulty 
of  taking  them  is  increased,  not  diminished  by  the  lapse  of 
time. 

My  reader,  is  not  the  reason  why  you  cannot  repent  of 
sin  and  love  God,  this, — that  you  can  never  say,  "  I  am  will- 
ing to  do  it  now."  Are  j^ou  willing  to  be,  from  this  time, 
the  servant  and  follower  of  Jehovah,  or  are  you  trying  the 
mad  experiment  of  postponement  and  delay  ? 

II.  Love  of  the  World.  This  is  the  second  of  those  three 
secret  obstacles  to  piety  which  I  was  to  mention.  I  mean  secret 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  those  who  think  that  they  wish  to 
be  penitent,  but  that  they  cannot.  I  am  not  now  considering 
the  causes  which  are  operating  so  extensively  in  chaining 
the  great  mass  of  mankind  down  in  their  bondage  to  sin.  1 
speak  only  of  those  who  feel  some  interest  in  this  subject, 
who  think  they  desire  salvation,  and  are  willing  to  do  what 
God  requires,  but  cannot.  Under  this  second  head  I  am  to 
endeavor  to  shew  that  many  of  my  readers,  who  are  in  this 
state  of  mind,  are  prevented  from  doing  their  duty  by  a  se- 
cret love  of  the  world.  I  shall  not,  however  succeed  in  show- 
ing this,  unless  you  co-operate  with  me.  If  while  you  read 
it,  you  put  yourself  in  an  attitude  of  defence,  you  can  easily 
set  aside  what  I  have  to  say.     I  shall  suppose  however  that 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN.  81 

Sacrifices  necessary  in  becoming  a  Clirislian.  Losing  a  friend;  an  enjoyment. 

you  really  wish  to  knew,  and  that  you  will  apply  what  I 
present  with  nnpartiality  and  candor  to  yourselves 

In  one  sense,  it  is  right  to  love  the  world.  God  has  made 
it  for  our  enjoyment,  and  hlled  it  with  sources  of  happiness, 
for  the  very  purpose  of  having  us  enjoy  them.  We  are  to 
look  u:jon  it  therefore  as  a  scene,  in  which  the  Creator  intend- 
ed that  we  should  be  happy,  and  we  are  to  derive  from  it  all 
the  happiness  that  we  can. 

There  are  however  temptations  in  this  world,  as  all  will 
admit ;  that  is,  pleasures  which  beckon  us  away  from  du- 
ty. When  a  young  person  begins  to  think  of  religious  duty, 
these  pleasures,  which  have  perhaps  long  been  enjoyed  come 
up  to  view, — not  very  distinctly,  but  still  with  so  much  ef- 
fect as  to  blind  the  mind  and  harden  the  heart.  Perhaps, 
my  reader,  you  can  think  of  some  irreligious  companion 
whom  you  know  you  must  give  up,  if  you  become  an 
open  and  decided  Christian.  Even  if  you  do  not  give  up 
him,  you  expect  that  that  he  will  give  up  you,  if  such  a 
change  should  take  place  in  your  character.  Now  although 
you  do  not  distinctly  make  a  comparison  between  the  pleas- 
ures of  his  societ}^  on  the  one  side,  and  the  peace  and  happi- 
ness of  religion,  on  the  other,  and  after  balancing  their  claims 
decide  against  God  and  duty, — although  you  make  no  for- 
mal decision  like  this,  yet  the  image  of  that  friend,  and  the 
recollection  of  the  past  pleasures  of  his  society  and  the  pros- 
pect of  future  enjoyment,  come  into  your  mind  and  secret- 
ly hold  you  a  prisoner.  The  chain  is  wound  arouivl  your 
heart,  and  its  pressure  is  so  gentle  that  you  scarcely  per- 
ceive it.  Still  it  holds  you  firmly,  and  until  you  loosen  the 
link,  it  will  hold  you.  You  do  right  while  you  are  in  this 
state  of  mind  to  say  that  you  cannot  love  God.  Our  Saviour 
says  the  same.  "  If  any  man  come  to  me  and  hate  not," 
that  is,  is  not  cordially  willing  to  give  up,  if  necessary,  "  his 
father  and  mother  and  wife  and  sisters,  yea  and  his  own  life 
also,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  You  cannot  be  the  disciple 
of  Christ  till  you  are  willing  to  give  up  the  world  in  all  its 
forms. 

Perhaps  it  is  not  a  friend  which  keeps  you  from  the  Sa- 
viour, but  some  other  object.  You  may  indulge  j^ourself  in 
some  practice,  which  conscience  secretly  condemns.  Per- 
haps there  is  a  favorite  amusement,  which  you  must  give 
up,  if  you  should  become  a  consistent  Christian.  You  do  not 
distinctly  bring  this  up  before  you  mind,  into  formal  com- 


82  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Third  cause  J  fear  of  the  world  Difficulties  foretold  by  the  Saviour. 

j^arison  with  the  hope  of  a  happy  immortahty  and  decide 
that  it  is  superior.  It  insinuates  itself  into  your  mind,  and 
shuts  Its  avenues  against  the  hght.  You  wonder  that  you 
do  not  see  and  feel,  and  cannot  discover  the  cause. 

111.  Fear  of  the  World.  Where  love  of  the  world  binds 
one  soul  in  sin,  the  fear  of  it,  in  some  form  or  other,  binds  ten. 
Every  one  is  surrounded  by  a  ciicle  of  influence,  it  may  be 
small  or  great,  which  is  hostile  to  piety.  To  take  the  atti- 
tude of  a  humble  Christian,  in  the  presence  of  this  circle  of 
acquaintances  and  friends,  to  abandon  your  past  course  of 
conduct  with  the  acknowledgement  that  it  has  been  entirely 
wrong,  and  to  encounter  the  cold  and  forbidding,  or  perhaps 
scornful  looks  of  those  whom  you  have  been  accustomed  to 
call  your  friends, — all  this  is  trying.  You  shrink  from  it. 
You  do  not  very  distinctly  take  it  into  consideration,  but  it 
operates  with  an  influence  the  more  unmanageable,  because 
it  is  unseen.  My  object  in  alluding  to  it  here  therefore,  is  to 
bring  it  out  to  view,  that  you  may  distinctly  see  it,  and  bring 
fairlj''  up  the  question  whether  you  will  be  deterred  by  such 
a  consideration  from  doing  your  duty  towards  your  Maker. 

These  three  reasons,  are  ordinarily  the  causes  why  those, 
who  are  almost  Christians,  do  not  become  so  altogether. 
They  are  strong  reasons.  They  hold  a  great  many  individ- 
uals in  lasting  bondage,  and  they  probably  hold  many  of 
my  readers  in  their  chains,  and  will  probably  continue  to  do 
so,  after  this  plain  exposition  of  them.  It  is  no  small 
thing,  and,  with  hearts  and  habits  like  ours,  it  is  no  easy 
thing  to  become  a  Christian.  The  inquiry  is  not  unfre- 
quently  made  why  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  in  this  world» 
produces  such  partial  effects,  and  surprise  is  expressed  that 
so  few  are  found  to  comply  with  its  reasonable  claims,  and 
to  respect  its  awful  sanctions.  But  when  we  look  at  those 
circumstances  in  the  case  which  exhibit  the  greatness  of  the 
sacrifice,  which  every  man  must  make,  v/ho  really  becomes 
a  Christian  in  a  world  like  this,  we  may  rather  be  surprised 
that  so  many  are  found  to  come  to  the  Saviour. 

Jesus  Christ  foretold  all  these  obstacles.  He  was  very 
frank  and  open  in  all  his  statements.  He  never  has  intend- 
ed to  bring  any  one  into  unforeseen  difficulties.  He  stated 
very  plainly  what  he  expected  of  his  followers ;  he  described 
the  sacrifices  they  must  make  to  please  him ;  the  troubles 
they  must  endure ,   and  when  he  left  them  at  last,  he  told 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN. 


83 


Entire  surrender  required.  Real  submission, 

them  plainly  that  if  they  should  persevere  in  his  service,  af- 
ter he  was  gone,  they  must  go  on  expectmg  to  sufer,  to  bleed 
and  to  die  in  his  cause. 

"  Whosoever  he  be  of  you  that  forsaketh  not  all  that  he 
hath,  he  cannot  be  my  disciple."  How  strong  an  ex}  ression ! 
What  an  entire  surrender  of  the  individuals  addressed,  dees 
it  require  !  And  yet  he  says,  "  my  yoke  is  easy  and  my  bur- 
den is  light."  How  is  this  ?  Does  not  the  first  declaraiion  im- 
ply that"  the  service  of  Christ  is  a  hard  service  1  And  does 
not  the  latter  imply  that  it  is  easy  ?  There  are  two  classes  of 
passages  in  the  scriptures,  which  seem,  on  this  point,  to 
speak°a  different  language.  But  the  explanation  is  this.  It 
is  hard  for  you  to  come  to  Jesus  Christ.  Worldly  pleasures 
beckon  you  away.  Dalngers  and  difficulties  frown  upon 
you,  and  above  all  the  rest,  pride, — pride,  that  most  uncon- 
querable of  enemies,  stands  erect,  and  says  you  must  not  take 
the  attitude  of  a  humble  Christian.  Now  all  these  obsta- 
cles you  must  overcome.  The  world  must  be  relinquished  ; 
the  claims  of  even  father  and  mother  must  give  way.  The 
trials  which,  in  a  life  of  piety  will  await  you,  must  be  boldly 
encountered ;  and  pride  must  yield.  But  when  this  is  done, 
— the  surrender  once  made,  all  is  happy.  The  yoke  is  easy 
and  the  burden  is  light.  If  the  heart  is  really  submissive  to 
God,  if  its  own  aifections  have  indeed  been  crucified,  and  if 
God  really  reigns  there,  peace  comes ;  and  peace  and  happi- 
ness will  really  reign,  unless  returning  pride  and  worldliness 
renew  the  struggle.  The  government  of  CTod  in  the  soul  is 
a  government  which  regulates,  but  does  not  enslave  ;  it  dif- 
fuses over  the  heart  unminglcd  peace  and  happiness. 

Let  all  then  distinctly  understand  that  there  is  no  becom- 
ing a  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ  without  real  submission,  and 
submission  is  no  pleasant  work  for  human  nature  to  perform. 
It  is  hard  for  us  to  acknowledge  that  we  have  been  wrong ; 
to  bow  to  a  power  which  we  have  long  opposed  ;  and  thus 
publicly  and  openly  to  change  sides,  on  a  subject,  which  di- 
vides the  world.  But  it  must  be  done.  Enmity  to  God,  or 
uncompromising  submission  to  his  will,  is  the  only  alterna- 
tive. 

It  is  right  that  this  should  be  the  only  alternative.  Just 
look  at  the  facts.  The  Creator  of  all  has  proclaimed  as  the 
law  of  his  empire,  that  all  beings  should  love  him  supremely, 
and  their  fellows  as  themselves.  We  have  always  known 
that  this  was  his  law,  we  know  too  that  it  is  reasonable,  in 


84  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Cliauging  sides.  Address  to  a  young  man. 

its  nature,  and  most  excellent  in  its  tendency.  No  man  can 
say  that  it  is  not  exactly  calculated  to  diftuse  universal  hap- 
piness ;  nor  can  any  man  deny  that  its  almost  unceasing  vio- 
lation in  this  world,  has  filled  the  world  with  misery  and 
crime.  Now,  excellent  and  reasonable  as  this  law  is,  there 
are  millions  in  the  human  family,  who  have  spent  all  their 
lives  in  the  continued,  unceasing  violation  of  it.  They  know 
that  they  never  have,  for  a  single  moment,  loved  (Jod  su- 
premely, or  loved  their  neighbors  as  themselves.  Now  all 
of  us  who  are,  or  who  have  been  in  this  state,  have  been 
plainly  taking  sides  against  God,  and  against  the  general 
happi/iess.  We  have  b  en  violating  known  duty,  being  in 
acknowledged  sin,  and  the  effect  has  not  been  confined  to 
ourselves.  The  influence  has  extended.  Our  example  has 
been  in  favor  of  irreligion,  and  as  our  sin  has  thus  been  pub- 
lic, can  we  complain  that  God  should  require  our  acknow- 
ledgement to  be  public  too.  No  ;  submission  to  God  must 
be  entire,  unqualified,  unreserved,  or  we  cannot  expect  God 
to  receive  it. 

Bat  let  me  be  more  particular.  Perhaps  some  yovjig 
man,  who  reads  this,  is  almost  persuaded  to  be  a  Christian. 
He  is  still  an  irreligious  man.  I  do  not  mean  that  he  is  opposed 
to  religion,  but  that  he  is  without  piety.  Were  I  to  address 
such  an  one  individually  I  would  say  to  him.  "  You  sir, 
are  probably  to  remain  twenty  or  thirty  years  in  the  commu- 
nity of  which  you  now  form  a  part.  These  years  will  be  in 
the  very  prime  of  your  life.  Your  influence  is  now  great ; 
it  is  increasing  and  it  must  increase.  God  has  brought  j^ou 
into  this  scene.  Your  original  powers  and  your  education  yoM 
owe  to  him.  The  habits  of  industry  and  of  integrity  which 
you  have  acquired,  would  not  have  been  yours  without  his 
aid.  He  has  held  you  up  and  brought  you  forward — and 
now,  as  the  opening  prospects  of  usefulness  and  happiness 
lie  before  you,  he  wishes  you  to  come  to  him  and  to  assist 
in  the  execution  of  his  plans  for  the  promotion  of  human  hap- 
piness. Will  you  come  ?  There  will  be  a  great  deal  of  suf- 
fering which  you  can  alleviate,  during  the  twenty  years 
that  are  before  you,  if  you  will  set  3^our  heart  upon  allevia- 
ting suflfcring.  There  will  be  much  vice  which  your  influ- 
ence may  prevent,  if  you  will  exert  it  aright.  You  may  be 
the  means  too  of  bringing  many  an  unhappy  sinner  to  the 
Saviour  who  died  for  him,  during  the  long  years  which  are 
to  corne,  if  you  will  but  come  and  love  that  Saviour  your- 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN.  85 

The  unchristian  parent  Suboiission  hard.  The  Youth. 

self,  and  seek  to  promote  his  cause."  "  But  no:"  do  jou 
say?  "  1  have  been  1  acknowledge  in  the  wrong-,  but  1 
cannot  bow  to  truth  and  duty, — and  humble  pride, — abandon 
my  ground,  and  stand  before  the  world  the  acknowledged 
victnn  of  folly  and  sin."  Then  you  cannot  serve  God.  Un- 
less you  will  do  this,  you  cannot  be  Christ's  disciple. 

Is  there  an  unchristian  parent  who  reads  these  joa- 
ges  ?  God  has  something  for  you  to  do  for  him  m  your  family 
circle.  You  are  moulding  the  hearts  of  these  children  by 
your  influence,  and  the  lineaments  which  your  daily  exam- 
ple is  calling  forth  there,  are  to  last.  You  are  doing  work 
for  a  very  long  futurity.  You  endeavor  to  promote  the  hap- 
piness of  your  children  for  this  life,  but  God  wishes  to  make 
them  happy  forever,  and  he  invites  you  to  come  and  co-op- 
erate with  him  in  the  noble  design.  But  you  cannot  co-op- 
erate with  him  until  you  join  him.  If  you  have  been  against 
him  thus  far,  you  cannot  join  him  without  submission.  "  But 
ah !"  you  say, — "that  word  submission!  It  is  hard  to  submit." 
I  know  it  is  hard.  For  example  you  have  perhaps  neglect- 
ed family  prayer.  You  cannot  be  God's  friend  and  doj'our 
duty  fully,  till  it  is  begun.  You  cannot  join  in  him  in  pro- 
moting the  eternal  happiness  of  your  son  or  youi'  daughter, 
till  you  are  willing  to  make  up  }■  our  mind  to  bow  before  your 
Maker  at  your  fireside  altar,  for  the  first  time.  And  when 
you  do  it  for  the  first  time  you  acknowledge  the  guilt  of  past 
neglect, — you  take  the  attitude  of  a  humbled,  altered  man. 
This  is  submission,  and  without  it  you  cannot  enter  the 
kingdom  of  heaven.  God  asks  you  to  do  this,  but  his  sole 
motive  for  asking  it  is  that  he  may  make  you  a  happy  fel- 
low worker  with  him. 

Look  at  that  youth,  the  favored  object  in  the  circle  of 
friends  and  companions  in  which  he  moves.  His  upright 
character  has  commanded  respect — and  his  amiable  dispo- 
sition has  secured  affection.  His  companions  seek  his  society 
— they  observe  and  imitate  his  example — they  catch  and 
adopt  his  opinions.  He  has  never,  now,  said  a  w^ord  against 
religion.  He  complies  respectfully  with  all  its  external  ob- 
servances, and  in  fine  does  all  which  he  can  do  without  be- 
ing personally  humbled.  But  how  would  he  shrink  from 
having  it  whispered  about  in  the  circle  in  which  he  moves 
that  he  is  anxious  for  the  salvation  of  his  soul.  How  un- 
willing would  he  be  that  it  should  be  known  that  he  went 
to  his  pastor  for  personal  religious  instruction,  or  that  he  had 


S6  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Submission  necessary  and  proper.  Why  it  is  so  difficult  to  become  a  Christian, 

taken  any  step  which  should  admit  before  all,  that  he  had 
been  hnnself,  personally,  a  guilty  rebel  aganist  God,  and  that 
he  wished  to  change  sides  now,  and  do  good  as  openly  and 
as  publicly  as  he  had  before  done  injury.  But  oh  !  reflect ; 
you  have  taken  an  open  stand  aganist  God ;  and  are  you 
not  wilhng  to  take  an  open  stand  in  his  favor  ?  I  know  it  is 
painful — it  is  the  very  crucifixion  of  the  flesh.  But  God 
cannot  propose  any  other  terms  than  that  those  who  have 
been  ope?i  enemies,  should  become  opeii  friends,  and  no  gen- 
erous mind  can  ask  any  easier  conditions. 

Indeed  sometimes  it  has  appeared  to  me  that  if  another  mode 
of  entering  the  kingdom  of  heaven  had  been  proposed,  that 
we  should  see  ourselves  its  impropriety.  Suppose  the  Sa- 
viour were  to  say  to  a  sinner  thus.  "  You  have  been  my 
enemy  I  know.  In  the  controversy  which  has  existed  be- 
tween God  and  his  revolted  subjects,  you  have  taken  the 
wrong  side.  You  have  been  known  to  be  without  piety, 
and  for  many  long  years  you  have  been  exerting  an  influ- 
ence against  God,  and  against  the  happiness  of  the  creation. 
But  I  am  ready  to  forgive  you  if  you  w411  return  to  me  now. 
And  as  publicly  giving  up,  in'  such  a  controversy,  is  always 
painful  to  the  pride  of  the  human  heart,  I  will  excuse  you 
from  this.  You  may  come  secretly  and  be  my  friend,  to 
save  you  the  mortification  of  publicly  changing  sides,  in  a 
question  on  which  your  opinions  and  your  conduct  have 
long  been  known." 

To  this  a  spirit  of  any  nobleness  or  generosity  would  re- 
ply, "  If  I  have  been  in  the  wrong, — and  I  freely  acknow- 
ledge that  I  have, — I  choose  openly  to  avow  it.  My  recan- 
tation shall  be  known  as  extensively  as  my  sin.  I  will  not 
come  and  make  my  peace  secretly  with  God,  and  leave  my 
example  to  go  on  alluring,  as  it  has  done,  others  to  live  in 
sin.  If  pride  remonstrates  I  will  cut  her  down ;  and  if  my  com- 
panions deride  my  change  I  will  bear  their  reproaches. 
They  cannot  injure  me  as  much  as  my  ungodly  example 
and  influence  has  injured  them." 

Wliother  however  the  sinner  sees  the  necessity  of  his  be- 
ing really  humbled  before  he  is  forgiven  or  not, — God  sees 
it — every  holy  being  sees  it — and  Jehovah's  determination 
is  fixed.     We  must  submit  or  we  cannot  be  pardoned. 

Do  you  not,  now,  my  reader,  see  what  is  the  reason  why 
you  cannot  be  a  Christian.  You  sa}''  you  wish  to,  but  can- 
not, and  in  irine  out  of  ten  of  such  cases,  the  difficulty  is  you 


ALMOST    A    CHRISTIAN.  87 

The  jailor's  submission.  Subject  dismissed. 

are  not  cordially  willing  to  give  up  all  to  God.  Pride  is  not 
yet  humbled,  or  the  world  is  not  yet  surrendered, — and  un- 
til it  is  you  cannot  expect  peace.  You  know  you  have  been 
wrong — and  you  wish  now  to  be  right — but  this  cannot  be 
without  an  open  change,  and  this  you  shrink  from.  The 
jailor  who  came  trembling  to  know  what  he  must  do  to  be 
saved,  was  told  to  repent  and  be  baptized  immediately.  How 
humiliating  !  To  appear  the  next  morning  a  spectacle  to 
the  whole  community, — a  stern  public  officer,  bowed  down 
to  submission  through  the  influence  of  the  very  prisoners 
committed  to  his  charge.  Yet  he  was  willing  to  encounter 
it  and  you, — if  you  can  just  consent  to  yield, — to  yield  every 
thing — throw  down  every  weapon,  and  give  up  every  ref- 
uge and  come  now  to  the  Saviour,  bearing  your  cross, — that 
is  bringing  life,  and  reputation,  and  all  you  hold  dear,  and 
placing  it  at  his  supreme  disposal,  you  may  depend  upon 
forgiveness  and  peace.  But  while  your  heart  is  full  of  res- 
ervations, while  the  world  retains  its  hold,  and  pride  is  un- 
subdued, and  you  are  thus  unwilling,  openly  and  decidedly 
to  take  the  right  side,  is  it  unjust  or  unkind  in  God  to  con- 
sider you  as  upon  the  wrong  one  1 — Far  be  it  from  me  to 
advocate  ostentation  in  piety.  The  humble  retiring  Chris- 
tian, who  communes  with  his  own  heart  and  with  God,  is 
in  the  best  road  to  growth  in  grace,  and  to  usefulness ;  but 
every  one  ought  to  be  willing  that  the  part  he  takes  in  this 
great  question  should  be  known. 

I  now  dismiss  this  subject,  not  to  resume  it  again  in  this 
volume.  Knowing  as  I  did  that  there  would  undoubtedly 
be  many  among  the  readers  of  this  book,  who  can  only  be 
called  almost  Christians,  I  could  not  avoid  devoting  a 
chapter  or  two  to  them.  I  have  now  explained  as  distinctly 
as  I  have  been  able  to  do  it,  the  submission  of  the  heart,  which 
is  necessary  in  becoming  a  Christian,  and  what  are  the  difficul- 
ties in  the  way.  I  should  evince  but  a  slight  knowledge  of 
the  human  heart,  if  I  were  not  to  expect  that  many  who 
read  this  will  still  remain  only  almost  Christians.  I  must 
here  however,  take  my  ffiial  leave  of  them,  and  invite  the 
others, — those  who  are  willing,  now  cordially  to  take  the 
Saviour  as  their  portion,  to  go  on  with  me  through  the  re- 
iiaaining  chapters  of  the  book,  which  I  shall  devote  entirely 
to  the  instruction  of  those  who  are  altogether  Christians. 


CHAPTER     VI. 

DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION. 
"  The  secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  our  God." 

The  Young  Christian,  conscientiously  desiring  to  know 
and  to  do  his  duty,  is  at  the  outset  of  his  course,  per- 
plexed by  a  multitude  of  difficulties  which  are  more  or  less 
remotely  connected  with  the  subject  of  religion,  and  which 
will  arise  to  his  view.  These  difficulties  in  many  cases  ca7i- 
not  he  removed.  The  embarrassnig  perplexity  however  which 
arises  from  them,  always  can,  and  it  is  to  this  subject  that 
I  wish  to  devote  the  present  chapter.  My  plan  will  be  in 
the  ffi-st  place  to  endeavor  thoroughly  to  convince  all  who 
read  it,  that  difficulties  must  be  expected, — difficulties  too, 
which  they  cannot  entirely  surmount :  and  in  the  second 
place  to  explain  and  illustrate  the  spirit  with  which  they 
must  be  met. 

It  is  characteristic  of  the  human  mind  not  to  be  willing 
to  wait  long  in  suspense  on  any  question  presented  to  it  for 
decision.  When  any  new  question  or  new  subject  comes 
before  us,  we  grasp  hastily  at  the  little  information  in  regard 
to  it  within  our  immediate  reach,  and  then  hurry  to  a  decis- 
ion. We  are  not  often  willing  to  wait  to  consider  whether 
the  subject  is  fairly  within  the  grasp  of  our  powers,  and 
whether  all  the  facts  which  are  important  to  a  proper  consid- 
eration of  it  are  before  us.  We  decide  at  once.  It  is  not 
l)leasant  to  be  in  suspense.  Suspense  implies  ignorance,  and 
to  admit  ignorance  is  humiliating. 

Hence  most  persons  have  a  settled  belief  upon  almost  every 
question  which  has  been  brought  before  them.  In  express- 
ing their  opinions  they  mention  things  lohich  they  believe, 
and  things  which  they  do  not  hel/eve,  but  very  few  people 
have  a  third  class  of  questions,  which  they  acknowledge  to 
be  beyond  their  grasp,  so  that  in  regard  to  them  they  can 
neither  believe  nor  disbelieve,  but  must  remain  in  suspense. 
Now  this  is  the  secret  of  nine  tenths  of  the  diflference  of  opin- 
ion, and  of  the  sharp  disputes  by  which  this  world  is 
made   so   noisy  a  scene.     Men  jump  at  conclusions  before 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  89 

Story  of  the  Chinese  and  the  Map.  Difficulties  in  all  subjects. 

they  distinctly  understand  the  premises,  and  as  each  one 
sees  only  a  part  of  what  he  ought  to  sec  before  forming  his 
opinion,  it  is  not  surprising  that  each  should  see  a  different 
part,  and  should  consequently  be  led  to  different  results.  They 
then  fall  into  a  dispute,  each  presenting  his  own  partial  view, 
and  shutting  his  eyes  to  that   exhibited  by  his  opponent. 

Some  of  the  mistakes  which  men  thus  fall  into  are  melan- 
choly. Others  only  ludicrous.  Some  European  traveller 
shewed  a  map  of  the  world  to  a  Chinese  philosopher.  The 
philosopher  looked  at  it  a  few  moments,  and  then  turned  with 
proud  and  haughty  look  and  said  to  the  bystanders.  This 
map  is  entirely  wrong  ;  the  English  know  nothing  of  Ge- 
graphy.  They  have  got  China  out  upon  one  side  of  the  world, 
whereas  it  is,  in  fact,  exactly  in  the  middle. 

Multitudes  of  amusing  stories  are  related  by  travellers  of 
the  mistakes  and  misconceptions  and  false  reasonings  of 
semi-barbarous  people,  about  the  subjects  of  European  Sci- 
ence and  Philosophy.  They  go  to  reasoning  at  once,  and 
fall  into  the  grossest  errors — but  still  they  have  much  more 
confidence  in  their  silly  speculations,  than  in  any  evidence 
which  their  minds  are  capable  of  receiving. 

But  you  will  say  do  you  mean  to  compare  us  with  such 
savages.  Yes  the  human  mind,  in  its  tendencies  is  every 
where  the  same.  The  truths  which  relate  to  the  world  of 
Spirits,  are,  to  us,  what  European  Science  is  to  a  South  Sea 
Islander.  Our  minds  experience  the  same  difficulty  in  grasp- 
ing them,  and  we  hurry  to  the  same  wild  speculations  and 
false  conclusions. 

It  is  not  surprising  that  the  truths  contained  in  a  revela- 
tion from  Heaven  should  be  beyond  our  grasp.  We  cannot 
even  fairly  grasp  the  truths  relating  to  the  mere  physical 
motions  of  this  earth.  We  know  for  instance,  that  the  dis- 
tinction downwards  is  only  towards  the  earth.  Now  let 
your  imagination  extend  half  round  the  globe.  Think  of 
the  people  who  are  standing  upon  it,  exactly  opposite  to  our- 
selves, and  try  to  realize  that  downwards  is  towards  the  earth 
there.  You  believe  it  I  know,  but  can  you,  in  the  expressive 
phrase  of  children,  make  it  seem  so. 

Again  you  know,  if  you  believe  that  the  earth  revolres; 
that  the  room  you  are  in  revolves  with  it,  and  that  consequent! j 
it  was  six  hoars  ago  in  a  position  the  reverse  of  what  it  now  is, 
— so  that  the  floor  was  in  a  direction  corresponding  to  that  of 
the  walls  now.  Now  can  you,  by  any  mental  effort,,  realize 
*8 


90  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


AslronDin'.cal  difficulties.  Difficulties  in  religion  to  be  expected. 

this.      Or  will  3^ou  acknowledge  that  even  this  simple  as- 
tronomical subject  is  bej'ond  3'our  grasp. 

L^nce  more.  Suppose  the  earth  and  sun  and  stars  were  all 
annihilated,  and  one  small  ball  existed  alone  in  space.  You 
can  imagine  this  state  of  things,  for  a  moment.  Now  there 
would  be,  as  you  well  know,  if  j^ou  have  the  slightest  astro- 
nomical knowledge,  no  down  or  up  in  such  case,  for  there 
would  be  no  central  body  to  attract.  Now  when  you  fancy 
this  ball,  thus  floating  in  empty  space,  can  }ou  realize  that 
there  would  be  no  tendency  in  it  to  move  in  one  direction 
rather  than  another.  You  may  believe,  on  authority,  that  it 
would  not  move,  but  fix  your  mind  upon  it  for  a  moment,  and 
then  look  off  from  it,  first  m  one  direction,  then  in  another,  until 
you  have  looked  in  every  direction,  and  can  you  make  all  these 
seem  the  same.  ?  No,  we  cannot  divest  ourselves  of  the  im- 
pression that  one  of  these  is  more  properly  up,  and  the  other 
more  properly  down,  though  the  slightest  astronomical 
knowledge  will  convince  us  that  this  impression  is  a  mere 
delusion.  Even  this  simple  and  unquestionable  truth  is  be- 
yond the  grasp  of  the  human  mind,  at  least  until  after  it 
has,  by  very  long  contemplation  on  such  subjects,  divested 
itself  of  the  prejudices  of  the  senses. 

Is  it  surprising  then  that  when  a  revelation  comes  to  us 
from  a  world  which  is  entirely  unseen  and  unknown,  de- 
scribing to  us  in  some  degree  God's  character,  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  his  government,  that  there  should  be  many  things 
in  it  which  we  cannot  understand?  No.  There  are,  and 
from  the  nature  of  the  case  must  be,  a  thousand  difficulties, 
insuperable  to  us  at  present.  Now  if  we  do  not  cordially 
feel  and  admit  this,  we  shall  waste  much  time  in  needless 
perplexity.  My  object  in  this  chapter  is  to  convince  all  who 
read  it,  that  they  must  expect  to  find  difficulties,  insupera- 
ble difficulties  in  the  various  aspects  of  religious  tiiith,  and 
to  try  to  persuade  you  to  admit  this,  and  to  repose  quietly  in 
acknowledged  ignorance,  in  those  cases  where  the  human 
mind  cannot  know.  The  difficulties  are  never  questions  of 
practical  duty,  and  sometimes  aie  very  remotely  connected 
with  any  religious  truth.  Some  of  them  1  shall  however  de- 
scribe, not  wiUi  the  design  of  explaining  them,  because  I 
purposely  collect  such  as  I  believe  cannot  be  explained  sat- 
isfactorily to  young  iiersons,  but  with  the  design  of  bringing 
all  cordially  to  feel  thit  they  must  be  ignorant,  and  that  they 
may  well  acknowledge  their  ignorance  at  once. 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  91 

First  difficulty.  Attempt  to  avoid  it.  Conversation. 

First  difficulty.  It  is  a  common  opinion  that  God  exist- 
ed before  tiie  creation  of  the  world  alone  and  unemployed, 
from  eternity.  Now  the  difficulty  is  this.  How  could  a 
being  who  was  infinite  in  benevolence  and  power  waste  all 
that  time,  when  it  might  have  been  employed  in  making 
millions  and  millions  happy.  The  creation  was  not  far  from 
six  thousand  years  ago,  and  six  thousand  years  compar- 
ed with  the  eternity  beyond  are  nothing.  So  that  it  fol- 
lows that  almost  the  whole  of  the  existence  of  a  benevolent 
and  omnipotent  Being,  who  delights  in  doing  good  and  pro- 
m  ting  happiness,  has  been  spent  in  doing  nothing. 

Perhaps  some  one  will  make  a  feeble  eflort  to  escape  from 
the  difficulty  by  supposing,  what  is  very  probably  true,  that 
other  worlds  were  created  long  before  this.  But  let  such  an 
one  consider  that  however  remote  the  first  creation  mav  have 
been,  there  is  beyond  it,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  an  eternity  of 
solitude  and  inaction. 

Remember  I  say,  so  far  as  toe  can  see,  for  I  am  far  from 
believing  that  Jehovah  has  ever  wasted  time.  I  know  noth- 
ing about  it.  I  can  see  and  reason  just  far  enough  to  per- 
ceive that  the  whole  subject  is  beyond  my  grasp,  and  I  leave 
it  contented  not  to  know,  and  not  to  pretend  to  know  any 
thing  about  it. 

After  reading  these  remarks  at  one  time  to  an  assembly 
of  young  persons,  several  of  them  gathered  around  me  and 
attempted  to  shew  that  there  was  in  fact  no  difficulty  in  this 
first  case. 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  what  explanation  have  you  ?" 

"  I  think,"  was  the  reply,  "that  God  might  have  been  creat- 
ing worlds  from  all  eternit}^  and  thus  never  have  been  un- 
employed." 

"  If  that  had  been  the  case,"  replied  1,  "would  or  would  not 
some  one  of  these  worlds  have  been  eternal  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,"  they  all  answered  with  one  voice. 

"  Then  you  suppose  that  some  of  these  worlds  were  eternal 
and  others  not.  The  first  which  were  created  had  no  begin- 
ning, but  after  a  time,  according  to  this  hypothesis,  Jehovah 
began  to  create  them  at  definite  periods.  This  is  evidently 
absurd.  "  Besides,  those  which  were  eternal  must  have  exists 
ed  as  long  as  God  has  existed,  and  if  you  admit  that,  it  seems 
that  you  must  admit  that  they  are  independent  of  God,  for  if 
they  have  existed  forever,  they  could  not  have  been  created." 

One  of  the  party  attempted  to  avoid  this  by  saying,  that, 


92  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Conversation  continued.  Second  difficulty, 

though  the  whole  series  of  creations  has  been  eternal,  yet 
that  every  particular  creation  may  have  been  at  some  defi- 
nite point  of  time,  so  that  each  one  world  has  had  but  a  hm- 
ited  existence,  though  the  whole  series  has  been  eternal. 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  can  you  conceive, — clearly  conceive — of 
an  eternal  series  of  creations  of  matter,  without  believing 
that  some  matter  itself  is  eternal?  And  if  you  suppose 
matter  itself  to  be  eternal,  can  you  understand  how  God 
can  have  created  that  which  has  existed  as  long  as  he  has 
himself?" 

This  was  the  substance  of  the  conversation,  which,  how- 
ever, in  all  its  details,  occupied  half  an  hour.  And  I  believe 
all  who  engaged  in  it  cordially  acknowledged,  that  the 
whole  subject  was  entirely  beyond  the  grasp  of  their 
miiids. 

As  this  book  may  fall  into  the  hands  of  some  theological 
scholar,  I  beg  that  he  will  bear  in  mind  that  I  do  not  pre- 
sent this  subject  as  one  that  would  perplex  him,  but  as  one 
which  must  perplex  the  young.  I  maintain  that  whatever 
trained  metaphysicians  may  understand,  or  fancy  that  they 
can  understand, — it  is  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  such 
minds  as  those  for  whom  this  book  is  intended. 

Second  difficulty.  When  in  a  still  and  cloudless  summer 
evening,  j^ou  have  looked  among  the  stars  of  the  sky, — you 
have  often  wondered  at  the  almost  boundless  extent  of  the 
creation.  That  faint  star  which  twinkles  so  feebl^^  that 
you  almost  fear  that  the  next  gentle  breeze  will  extinguish 
it,  or  that  the  next  light  cloud  will  sweep  it  away, — has 
burned  with  the  same  feeble  but  inextinguishable  beam  ever 
since  the  creation.  The  sun  has  blazed  around  the  heav- 
ens,— storms  have  agitated  and  wrecked  the  skies, — the 
moon  has  waxed  and  waned  over  it, — but  it  burns  on  the 
same.  It  may  be  obscured  by  some  commotion  of  the  ele- 
ments for  a  time,  but  when  cloud  and  storm  have  passed 
away,  you  will  find  it  shining  on  unchanged,  in  the  same 
place  and  with  the  same  brightness,  and  with  precisely  the 
same  hue,  which  it  exhibited  before  the  flood. 

It  is  a  great  blzaing  sun,  burning  at  its  immense  dis- 
tance with  inconceivable  brightness  and  glory,  probably  sur- 
rounded by  many  worlds  whose  millions  of  inhabitants  are 
cheered  by  its  rays.  Now,  as  you  all  well  know,  every  star 
which  twinkles  in  the  sky,  and  thousands  of  others  which 
the  telescope  alone  brings  to  view,  are  probably  thus  sur- 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  93 

Extent  of  the  creation.  DitiUculty. 

rounded  bj  life  and  intelligence  and  happiness  ni  ten  thou- 
sand forms.  Stand  now  ni  a  summer  eveuing  under  the 
open  sky,  and  with  these  views,  estimate  as  largely  as  you 
please  the  extent  of  the  creation.  Hov/ever  widely  you 
may  in  imagination  expand  its  boundaries,  still  it  seems  to 
human  reason  that  it  must  have  a  limit.  Now  go  with  me 
in  imagination  to  that  limit.  Let  us  take  our  station  at  the 
remotest  star,  and  look  upon  the  one  side,  into  the  regions 
which  God  has  filled  with  intelligence  and  happiness,  and 
on  the  other  side  into  the  far  wider  regions  of  gloomy  dark- 
ness and  solitude  that  lie  beyond.  Make  the  circle  of  the 
habitable  universe  as  large  as  you  will — how  much  more 
extensive,  according  to  any  ideas  of  space  which  we  can 
form,  must  be  the  dreary  waste  beyond.  The  regions  which 
God  has  filled  by  his  efforts  and  plans  dwindle  to  a  little 
fertile  island,  in  the  midst  of  a  boundless  ocean.  But  why 
is  this  ?  Who  can  explain  or  understand  how  a  Being  bound- 
less in  power  and  desirous  of  promoting  the  greatest  possible 
amount  of  enjoymient  can  leave  so  immense  a  porlion  unocu- 
pied,  and  confine  all  his  efforts  to  a  region  which  though 
immense  to  our  conceptions,  is  after  all  but  a  little  spot,  a 
mere  point  compared  with  the  boundless  expanse  around. 

Now  I  by  no  means  believe  that  there  is  such  an  immense 
void  as  my  reasoning  seems  to  prove  there  must  be.  My 
object  is  to  shew  that  in  these  subjects  which  are  beyond 
our  grasp,  we  may  reason  plausibly,  and  only  plunge  our-^ 
selves  in  difficulties  without  end.  Therefore  on  such  sub- 
jects I  distrust  all  reasoning.  I  never  reason,  except  for  the 
purpose  of  showing  how  utterly  the  subject  is  beyond  our 
grasp,  and  in  regard  to  such  questions  I  have  no  opinion. 
I  believe  nothing  and  disbelieve  nothing. 

Third  difficulty.  The  existence  of  suffering,  It  seems  to 
me  that  the  human  mind  is  utterly  incapable  of  exph'ining 
how  suffering  can  find  its  way  into  any  world  which  is  un- 
der the  control  of  a  benevolent  and  an  omnipotent  God.  If 
he  is  benevolent,  he  will  desire  to  avoid  all  suffering,  and  if 
he  is  omnipotent  he  will  be  able  to  do  it.  Now  this  rea- 
soning seems  to  be  a  perfect  moral  demonstration.  No 
person  can  reply  to  it.  Some  one  may  faintly  say 
that  the  suffering  we  witness  is  the  means  of  producing  a 
higher  general  good,  and  then  I  have  only  to  ask,  but  why 
could  not  an  omnipotent  Being  secure  the  higher  good,  ivth- 
out  the  suffering  ?     And  it  is  a  question  which  it  seems  tQ 


94  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


The  existence  of  suffering-  inexplicable.        The  pirate  condemned  to  die. 

me,  no  man  can  answer.  The  only  rational  course  which 
we  can  take  is  to  say,  sincerely  and  cordially,  we  do  not 
know.  We  are  just  commencing-  our  existence, — ^just  begin- 
ning to  think,  and  to  reason  about  our  Creator's  plans,  and 
we  must  expect  to  find  hundreds  of  subjects  which  we  can- 
not understand. 

Fourth  difficulty.  Human  accountability.  Instead  of 
calling  this  a  difficulty,  I  ought  to  call  it  a  cluster  of  diffi- 
culties, for  unanswerable  questions  ma^-  be  raised  without 
end  out  of  this  subject. 

Look  at  yonder  gloomy  procession.  In  the  cart  there  sits 
•a  man,  who  has  been  convicted  of  piracy  and  murder  upon 
the  high  seas,  and  he  is  condemned  to  die.  Now  that  man 
was  taught,  from  his  youth,  to  be  a  robber  and  a  murderer. 
He  was  trained  up  to  blood.  Conscience  did,  doubtless,  re- 
monstrate. -There  was  a  law  written  on  his  heart,  which 
condemned  him,  but  he  was  urged  on  by  his  companions, 
and,  perhaps,  b}-  his  reiy  father,  to  stifle  its  voice.  Had  he 
been  born  and  brought  up  in  a  Christian  land,  with  a  kind 
Christian  parent,  and  surrounded  by  the  influences  of  the 
Bible,  and  the  church,  and  the  Sabbath  School,  he  would 
undoubtedly  never  have  committed  the  deed.  Shall  he,  then, 
be  executed  for  a  crime,  which,  had  he  been  in  our  circum- 
stances, he  would  not  have  committed,  and  which  his  very 
judge,  perhaps,  would  have  been  guilty  of,  had  he  been  ex- 
posed to  the  temptations  which  overwhelmed  the  prisoner? 

In  a  multitude  of  books  on  metaphysics,  the  following  train 
of  reasoning  is  presented.  The  human  mind,  as  it  comes 
from  the  hand  of  the  Creator,  is  endued  with  certain  sus- 
ceptibilities to  be  affected  by  external  objects.  For  instance, 
an  hijury  awakens  resentment  in  every  mind.  The  heart  is 
so  constituted,  that  when  the  youngest  child  receives  an  in« 
jury  which  it  can  understand,  a  feeling  of  resentment  comes 
up  in  the  heart.  It  need  not  have  been  so.  We  might  un- 
questionably, have  been  so  formed,  that  mere  covipassion  for 
the  guilt  of  the  individual  who  had  inflicted  it,  or  a  simple 
desire  to  remove  the  suffering, — or  any  other  feeling  what- 
ever might  rise.  But  God  decided,  when  he  formed  our 
minds,  what  should  be  their  tendencies. 

He  has  not  only  decided  upon  the  constitutional  tenden- 
cies of  the  mind,  but  has  arranged  all  the  circumstances  to 
which  each  individual  is  to  be  exposed.  And  these,  so  far 
as  we  can  see,  constitute  the  whole  which  affects  the  format 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  95 

Accountability.  Foreknowledge,  Story  ol"  father  and  sod. 

tion  of  character.  The  original  tendencies, — and  the  cir- 
cumstances of  hfe  by  which  they  are  developed  or  restrained- 
God  has,  therefore,  the  whole  control  in  the  formation  of  the 
character  of  every  individual. 

This  seems,  at  least  to  a  great  many  minds,  perfect  de- 
monstration. There  is  no  evading  it ;  and  it  brmgs  us  at 
once  to  that  greatest  of  all  questions  in  physics  or  metaphy- 
sics,— in  the  whole  circle  of  human  inquiry.  A  question, 
which  has  caused  more  disputes, — destroyed  more  Christian 
peace  of  mind, — given  rise  to  more  vain  systems,  formed  by 
philosophical  attempts  to  evade  the  difficulty  ; — than  almost 
any  other  question  whatever.  Hoic  can  man  be  accounta- 
ble, xohen  God  has  had  such  entire  control  in  the  formation 
of  his  character  ? 

I  know  that  some  among  my  readers  will  think  that  I 
make  the  difficulty  greater  than  it  is.  They  will  thmk  they 
can  see  much  to  lighten  it,  and  will,  perhaps,  deny  some  of 
my  assumptions.  Of  such  an  one,  1  would  simply  ask, 
were  he  before  me, — after  having  heard  all  he  should  have 
to  say  on  the  subject,  "  Can  you,  sir,  after  all,  honestly  say, 
that  you  understand,  clearly  understand, — how  man  can  be 
fully  accountable,  and  yet  his  heart  be  as  much  under  divine 
control,  as  you  suppose  it  is?''  Every  honest  man  will  ac- 
knowledge that  he  is  often,  in  his  thoughts  on  this  subject, 
lost  in  perplexity,  and  forced  to  admit  the  narrow  limit  of 
the  human  powers. 

But  again.  No  one  denies  that  God  foreknows  perfectly 
every  thing  that  happens.  Now  suppose  a  father  were  to 
say  to  his  child,  "  My  son  you  are  going  to  a  scene  of  temp- 
tation to  day,  you  will  be  exposed  to  some  injury,  and  will 
be  in  danger  of  using  some  harsh  and  resentful  words.  Now 
I  wish  you  to  be  careful.  Bear  injury  patiently,  and  do  not 
use  opprobrious  language  in  return." 

All  this  would  be  very  well,  but  suppose  that  in  addition 
the  father  were  to  say.  "  My  son,  I  have  contrived  to  as- 
certain what  you  will  say,  and  I  have  written  here  upon 
this  paper,  every  word  you  will  utter  to-day." 

"  Every  word  you  think  I  shall  speak,  you  mean,"  says 
the  boy. 

"  No,"  says  the  Father,  "  every  word  you  will  speak ; 
they  are  all  written  exactly.  I  have,  by  some  mysterious 
means,  ascertained  them,  and  here  they  are.     And  it  is  ab- 


96  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Ima/ifinary  conversalion  wilh  an  infidel 


soluUlij  certatii,  that  you  will  speak  every  thing-  which  is 
written  here,  and  not  a  syllable  besides." 

Could  any  boy  after  such  a  statement,  go  away  believing 
what  his  lather  had  said,  and  yet  feeling  that  he  himself 
could  be,  notwithstanding,  free  to  act  and  speak  that  day  as 
he  pleased  ?* 

Now  God  knows,  as  all  will  acknowledge,  everything 
which  will  take  place,  just  as  certainly  as  if  it  were  written. 
The  mere  fact  of  expressing  it  in  language  would  make  no 
difference.  We  may  consider  our  future  conduct  to  be  as 
clearly  known,  and  as  certain,  as  if  our  histories  were  mi- 
nutely written,  and  where  is  the  man,  (with  perhaps  the  ex- 
ception of  a  few  who  have  made  metaphysical  philosophy  a 
study  for  years,)  who  will  not  acknowledge  that  this  truth, 
which  nobody  will  deny,  throws  a  little  perplexity  over  his 
mind,  when  he  looks  at  that  boundless  moral  freedom  and 
entire  accountability,  which  the  Bible  and  human  con- 
sciousness both  attribute  to  man. 

Fifth  difficulty.  It  is  common  to  prove  the  existence  of 
God  from  Ins  works,  in  the  following  manner.  We  see  cre- 
ated objects:  they  must  have  had  a  cause,  for  nothing  can 
arise  out  of  nothing.  There  must  have  been,  therefore,  some 
great  first  cause  which  w^e  call  God. 

Now  this  reasoning  is  very  plausible,  but  suppose  the  infi- 
del, to  whom  you  present  it,  should  say, 

"  But  what  brought  God  into  existence  ?" 

You  answer,  "  He  is  uncaused.^^ 

"  Very  well,"  he  replies,  "  then  he  came  from  nothing,  so 
that  it  seems  something  can  come  from  nothing." 

"  No,"  you  reply,  "  he  existed  from  eternity." 

"  And,  I  suppose,"  replies  the  Atheist,  "  that  the  world  has 
existed  uncaused  from  all  eternity,  and  why  is  not  my  suppo- 
sition as  good  as  yours.  There  are  no  more  marks  of  design 
in  the  structure  of  this  earth,  than  there  are  in  the  nicely 
balanced  and  adjusted  powers  and  attributes  of  Jehovah." 

*  Let  it  be  remembered  that  T  am  writing'  for  the  ynims;  and  am  enumerating 
diflScullies  insnpprahie  to  them.  A  mind  lone:  acrustomed  to  thf  accuracy  of 
metaphysical  inquiries,  will  see  that  the  antecedent  certainty  of  any  act  proves 
only  the  g^rcnlne.ss  of  ihe  intellect  which  can  foresee  it. — it  ha<  noihinc:  to  do 
with  the  freedom  of  the  moral  ajjenl  by  which  it  is  i)erformed  If  an}'  one 
supposes  that  there  is  no  jrreat  difficulty  for  the  yoiincr,  in  this  subject,  let  him 
try  to  convince  an  iniellis^ent  boy,  that,  under  such  circumstances  as  are  above 
described,  he  could  be  free  to  speak  gently  or  angrily,  solely  according  to  his 
own  free  will. 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  97 

Answering  prayer.  Case  supposed.  The  sick  son. 

Now  this  does  not  shake  my  confidence  m  the  being  of  a 
God.  1  know  there  is  a  God — and  every  man  knows  there 
is ;  though  they  who  are  resolved  to  break  his  laws,  some- 
times vanily  seek  shelter  in  a  denial  of  his  existence.  Like 
the  foolish  child,  who,  when  at  midnight  the  thunder-storm 
rages  in  the  skies,  buries  his  face  m  his  pillow,  and  fancies 
that  he  finds  protection  from  tbe  forked  lightning,  by  just 
shutting  his  eyes  to  its  glare.  No ;  it  only  shakes  my  con- 
fidence m  all  abstract  reasonings  upon  subjects  which  are  be- 
yond my  grasp. 

Sixth  difficulty.  How  can  God  really  answer  prayer  with- 
out in  fact  miraculously  interrupting  the  course  of  nature  1 
That  God  does  answer  prayer  by  an  exertion  of  his  power, 
in  cases  to  which  human  influence  does  not  reach,  seems 
evident  from  the  following  passage.  "  The  efiectual,  fervent 
prayer  of  a  righteous  man  availeth  much.  Elias  was  a  man 
subject  to  like  passions  as  we  are,  and  he  prayed  earnestly 
that  it  might  not  rain,  and  it  rained  not  on  the  earth  by  the 
space  of  three  years  and  six  months.  And  he  prayed  again, 
and  the  heaven  gave  rain,  and  the  earth  brought  forth  her 
fruit."  James  V.  16,  17,  18.  Notwithstanding  the  difficulty 
of  reasoning  with  an  infidel  who  is  determined  not  to  be  con- 
vinced, the  proofs  from  marks  of  design  is  conclusive  to 
every  unbiassed  mind.  Now  if  the  natural  effect  of  prayer 
as  an  exercise  of  the  heart,  were  all,  this  illustration 
would  be  altogether  inappropriate.  It  must  teach  that  the 
prayers  of  men  will  have  an  influence  icith  Jehovah,  so 
that  he  shall  order,  differently  from  w^hat  he  otherwise  would 
do,  events  beyond  human  control.  Now  how  can  this  in 
fact  be  done  without  a  miracle  ?  A  miracle  is  nothing  more 
than  an  interruption  of  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  Now 
if  the  ordinary  course  of  nature  would,  in  any  case,  bring  us 
what  we  ask,  it  is  plain  we  do  not  owe  it  to  God's  answering 
prayer.  If  the  regular  course  of  nature  would  not  bring  it, 
then  it  seems  that  God  cannot  grant  the  request  without  in- 
terrupting, more  or  less,  that  course,  and  this  is  a  miracle. 
This  reasoning  appears  simple  enough,  and  it  is  difficult  to 
see  how  the  conclusion  can  be  avoided. 

But  to  make  the  point  plainer,  let  me  suppose  a  case.  A 
mother,  whose  son  is  sick  in  a  foreign  port,  asks  for  prayers 
in  a  seaman's  chapel,  that  he  may  be  restored  to  health  and 
returned  in  safety.  The  young  man  is  perhaps  ten  thou- 
sand miles  from  home.  The  prayer  can  have  no  power  to 
9 


98  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Miraculous  interference  in  answering  prajer. 


put  in  operation  any  earthly  cause  which  can  reach  him.  If 
it  reaches  hnn  at  all,  it  must  be  through  the  medium  of  the 
Creator. 

Now  we  are  compelled  to  believe,  if  we  believe  the  Bible, 
that  the  prayer  will,  in  all  ordinary  cases,  have  an  influence. 
The  efficacy  of  prayer  in  such  cases  as  this,  is  so  universally 
taught  in  the  Bible,  that  w6'  cannot  doubt  it,  and  yet  retain 
that  volume  as  our  guide.  But  how  can  God  answer  this  pray- 
er without  in  reality  interfering  miraculously  with  the  laws  of 
nature.  If  the  young  man  would  have  recovered  without  it, 
then  his  restoration  cannot  very  honestly  be  said  to  be  in  an- 
swer to  prayer.  If  he  recovers,  when,  without  the  piaj^er,  he 
would  have  died,  then  it  seems  very  plain  that  God  must  in- 
terfere somewhere,  to  interrupt  what  would  have  been  the  or- 
dinary course  of  nature.  He  must  arrest  supernaturally  the 
progress  of  the  disease,  or  give  to  medicines  an  efficacy, 
which,  without  his  special  interference,  they  would  not  have 
possessed,  or  suggest  to  his  phj^sician  a  course  of  treat- 
ment, which  the  ordinary  laws  of  thought  would  not  have 
presented  to  his  mind ; — either  of  which,  according  to  any 
philosophical  definition,  is  a  miracle. 

Now  undoubtedly  God,  in  some  secret  way,  that  we  can- 
not now  understand,  can,  without  disturbing  the  laws  of  na- 
ture, grant  our  requests.  The  difficulty  is  merely  one  to  our 
limited  powers,  but  to  these  powers  it  is  insurmountable. 

I  might  go  on  with  such  an  enumeration  to  an  indefinite 
length ;  but  I  have,  I  hope,  alreadj^  brought  up  points  enough. 
And  let  my  reader  remember,  that  it  is  not  necessary  for  my 
purpose,  that  he  should  admit  that  all  these  questions  are  be- 
yond the  grasp  of  his  mind.  It  is  enough  for  m^'-  present  ob- 
ject that  each  one  will  admit  that  some  of  them  are.  One 
will  say  that  he  can  understand  the  subject  of  God's  answer- 
ing prayer  ;  another  will  think  there  is  no  difficulty  in  regard 
to  God's  fore-knowledge  of  human  actions,  and  thus  every 
reader  will  perhaps  find  some  one  of  these  which  he  thinkshe 
understands.  But  will  not  all  acknowledge  that  there  are 
some,  which  he  cannot  understand, — if  so,  he  will  cordiallj^ 
feel  that  there  are  subjects  connected  with  important  reli- 
gious truth,  which  are  beyond  the  grasj)  of  the  human  mind, 
and  this  conviction,  is  what  I  have  been  endeavoring  to 
establish. 

The  real  difficulties  which  I  have  brought  to  view  in  the 
preceding  pages  are  few.     They  are  only  brought  up  again 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  99 

Sources  of  difficultj'.  Algebra.  The  surd. 

and  again  in  different  forms,  that  thej  might  be  more 
clearly  seen.  Eternal  duration ;  infinite  space ;  the  nature 
of  moral  agency ; — these  are  the  fountains  of  perplexity, 
from  which,  in  various  ways,  I  have  drawn  in  this  chapter. 
They  are  subjects  which  the  human  mind  cannot  grasp,  and 
they  involve  in  difficulty  every  proposition  of  which  they 
form  an  element.  You  ma\^  remove  the  difficulty  from  one 
part  of  the  ground  to  the  other,  you  may  conceal  it  by 
sophistry,  you  may  obscure  it  by  declamation  ; — but  after  all 
that  you  have  done,  it  will  remain  a  difficulty  still,  and  the 
acute  and  candid  mind  will  see  its  true  character,  through 
all  the  forms  in  which  you  may  attempt  to  disguise  it.  The 
disputes  and  the  theorizing  with  which  the  theological  world 
is  filled  on  the  subject  of  moral  agency  for  example, — the 
vain  attempts  to  form  some  philosophical  theory  w^iich  will 
explain  the  subject,  remind  me  of  the  labors  of  a  school  boy 
in  endeavoring  to  solve  an  equation  containing  one  irr<^/iow- 
al  term.  He  transposes  the  troublesome  surd  from  one  side 
to  the  other, — he  multiplies  and  divides  it, — he  adds  to  it  and 
subtracts  from  it, — he  tries  involution  and  evolution  upon  it, 
but  notwithstanding  every  metamorphosis,  it  remains  a  surd 
still,  and  though  he  may  have  lost  sight  of  it  himself,  by 
throwing  it  into  some  complicated  multinomial  expression, 
the  practised  mathematician  will  see,  by  a  glance  of  the 
eye,  that  an  insuperable  difficulty  is  there. 

It  is  just  so  with  these  great  moral  subjects  ;  they  contain 
intrinsic  and  insurmountable  difficulties  ;  and  wherever  they 
come,  they  bring  difficulty,  which  it  is  most  philosophical  to 
acknowledge,  not  to  deny  or  conceal.  We  ought  to  be  will- 
ing to  remain  in  ignorance  on  such  subjects,  if  loe  can  only 
distinctly  knoio  our  duty.  It  is,  indeed,  best  in  ordinary  cases 
to  look  into  the  subject, — to  examine  it  carefully,  so  as  to  find 
where  the  difficulty  is,  see  what  firm  ground  you  have  all 
around  it,  and  let  the  region  of  uncertainty  and  ignorance  be 
circumscribed  by  a  definite  boundary.  But  when  this  is  done, 
look  calmly  upon  the  surface  of  the  deep  which  you  know 
you  cannot  sound,  and  acknowledge  the  limit  of  your  pow- 
ers with  a  humble  and  quiet  spirit. 

In  order  to  avoid  that  mental  anxietj^  which  the  contem- 
plation of  insurmountable  difficulty  is  calculated  to  awaken, 
it  is  well  to  make  a  broad  and  constant  distinction  between 
a  theoretical  and  practical  question.      The  inquiry  what 


100  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Distinction  between  theoretical  and  practical  difficulties. 

duty  is,  is  in  every  case  a  practical  question.  The  principles 
upon  which  that  duty  is  required,  form  often  a  mere  question 
of  theory  into  which  it  is  of  no  importance  that  we  should  be 
able  to  enter.  Shall  the  Sabbath  commence  on  Saturday 
evening  or  on  Sunday  morning  1  That  is  a  practical  diffi- 
culty. Your  decision  of  it  will  affect  your  practice  at  once. 
"  Why  did  God  appoint  one  day  in  seven  rather  than  one  in 
six,  or  one  in  eight,  for  holy  time  ?"  That  is  just  as  plainly 
theoretical.  Now  almost  every  question  relating  to  the  rea- 
sons which  influenced  the  Creator  in  his  dealings  with  men, 
every  one  in  regard  to  the  essence  of  his  character,  the  con- 
stitution of  man  as  a  moral  being,  and  the  ground  of  his  obli- 
gations to  God,  the  principles  by  which  the  magnitude  and 
the  duration  of  future  punishment  are  fixed, — these  are  all 
theoretical  questions.  If  we  beheve  the  plain  declarations  of 
the  Bible  in  regard  to  the  facts  on  these  subjects, — those  facts 
will  indeed  influence  our  conduct, — but  we  may  safely  leave 
the  theory  to  him  who  has  the  responsibility  of  reigning  in 
the  universe. 

Take  for  instance  the  question  of  future  punishment- 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  speculation  among  theological  wri- 
ters on  what  ought  and  what  ought  not  to  be  done  with  im- 
penitent sinners,  who  continue  in  sin  during  their  period  of 
probation.  But  what  reasonable  man,  who  will  reflect  a 
moment,  can  imagine  that  any  human  mind  can  take  in 
such  a  view  of  God's  administration,  as  to  enable  it  really 
to  grasp  this  question.  What  powers  can  comprehend  so 
fully  the  nature  and  the  consequences  of  sin  and  punish- 
ment,— not  for  a  few  years  only,  but  forever,  and  not  upon 
a  few  minds  only,  but  upon  the  universe,  as  to  be  able  to 
form  any  opinion  at  all,  in  regard  to  the  course  which  the 
Supreme  ought  to  take  in  the  punishment  of  sin.  Why,  the 
noisy,  riotous  tenants  of  a  crowded  jail  room,  are  far  more 
capable  of  discussing  the  principles  of  penal  jurisprudence, 
than  we  are  of  forming  any  opinion,  upon  abstract  grounds, 
of  the  proper  extent  and  duration  of  future  punishment. 
The  jailor  would  say  to  his  prisoners,  if  they  remonstrated 
with  him  on  the  severity  of  their  sentence,  "  the  law  decides 
this  question,  we  have  nothing  to  do  with  it.  The  law  will 
be  executed."  And  so  if  a  man  should  attempt  to  reason 
with  me,  to  prove  on  abstract  grounds  that  eternal  or  that 
limited  punishment  is  the  just  one  ;  might  I  not  sa3^  to  him, 
**  Sir,  why  do  you  perplex  me  with  the  question  of  the  pun- 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  101 

Comparative  power  of  God  and  man  in  the  human  heart. 

ishment  of  the  enemies  of  God.  I  have  not  that  punish- 
ment to  assign.  God  sajs  that  the  wicked  shall  go  away 
into  everlasting  punishment.  He  has  decided.  1  cannot 
stand  on  the  eminence  which  he  occupies  and  see  what  led 
him  to  this  decision.  My  only  duty  is  to  believe  what  he 
says,  and  to  escape  as  swiftly  as  I  can  to  the  refuge  from 
that  storm." 

Nine  tenths  of  the  difficulties  which  beset  the  paths  of 
young  Christians  and  young  converts  would  be  avoided  by 
such  a  spirit  as  this.  By  our  taking  God's  decisions,  and 
spending  our  strength  in  performing  the  practical  duties 
which  arise  from  them,  and  leaving  the  grounds  of  those  de- 
cisions with  him. 

This  principle  may  be  applied  in  a  multitude  of  cases  in 
which  Scripture  declarations  are  a  ground  of  doubt  and  dif- 
ficulty to  Christians.  "  Work  out  your  own  salvation  with 
fear  and  trembling,  for  it  is  God  that  worketh  in  you  both 
to  will  and  to  do  of  his  good  pleasure."  So  far  as  this  text 
is  considered  in  its  practical  aspects,  how  plain  and  simple 
it  is  :  and  yet  how  easy  to  lose  ourselves  in  the  theoretical 
speculations  to  which  it  may  give  rise.  The  duties  it  re- 
quires, are  plain  and  simple.  Do  your  duty  with  patient 
fidelity,  but  feel  at  the  same  time  a  humble  sense  of  your 
dependence  upon  God.  The  theory  upon  which  these  two 
duties  are  founded,  is  lost  in  obscurity  which  the  human 
mind  cannot  penetrate. 

The  words  "  work  out,  &c.  seem  to  imply  that  the  pow- 
er necessary  to  change  the  heart  rests  with  man,  while  the 
latter  part  of  the  verse,  for  it  is  God  &c.,  seems  to  attribute 
it  to  God.  How  is  this  1  what  degree  of  agency  has  man 
himself  in  the  production  of  those  holy  feelings  which  the 
Bible  represents  as  necessary  to  salvation,  and  what  part 
devolves  upon  the  Creator  1  This  is  a  question  which,  as  has 
been  already  remarked,  has  come  up  in  a  thousand  forms. 
It  has  been  the  foundation  of  many  a  captious  cavil,  as 
•well  as  of  many  an  honest  doubt.  If  the  Bible  had  taught 
us  that  man  alone  had  power  over  his  conduct,  so  as  to  be 
entirely  independent  of  an  over-ruling  hand,  we  could  un- 
derstand it.  Or  if  it  had  maintained  that  God  reigned  in 
the  human  heart,  and  controlled  its  emotions  and  feelings 
to  such  an  extent  as  to  free  min  from  the  responsibility,  this 
too  would  be  plain.  But  it  takes  neither  of  these  grounds. 
In  some  passages  it  plainly  teaches  us  that  all  the  responsi- 
*9 


102  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Difficulty  theoretical.  None  in  practice. 

bility  of  human  conduct  rests  upon  the  individual  being  who 
exhibits  it.  In  other  places  we  are  informed  that  the  great 
God  is  Supreme  in  the  moral  as  in  the  material  world,  and 
that  he  turns  the  hearts  of  men  as  surely  and  as  easily  as  the 
rivers  of  water.  And  these  two  truths,  so  perplexing  to  phi- 
losophy, are  brought  by  a  moral  darnig  for  which  the  Bible 
is  remarkable,  directly  side  by  side  in  the  passage  before  us. 
There  is  no  softening  of  language  to  obscure  the  distinct- 
ness of  the  difficulty ; — there  are  no  terms  of  limitation  to 
bring  it  in  within  narrow  bounds  ; — there  is  no  interpret  ation 
to  explain, — no  qualifications  to  modify.  But  it  stands  fair 
and  legible,  and  unalterable  upon  the  pages  of  the  word  of 
God,  saying  to  us  in  language  which  we  cannot  misunder- 
stand ; — you  must  make  active  and  earnest  efforts  your- 
selves in  the  pursuit  of  hoHness, — and  you  must  still  submit 
to  the  power  that  rules  in  your  heart,  and  look  for  assistance 
to  God,  who  works  in  yoM  to  ivill  and  to  do. 

It  ought  however  to  be  said  again,  and  again,  that  the 
difficulty  is  not  a  practical,  but  a  theoretical  one.  There 
is  no  difficulty  in  making  the  eforts  required  by  the  former 
part  of  the  passage,  and  at  the  same  time  in  feeling  the  de- 
pendence  on  God,  required  in  the  latter.  The  difficulty  is 
in  understanding  the  pri7iciple  upon  tohich  the  tivo  are  found- 
ed. It  seems  to  me  that  this  is  a  very  fundamental 
point.  Persons  seeking,  or  thinking  that  they  are  seek- 
ing to  enter  the^  kingdom  of  heaven,  are  often  encum- 
bered with  these  very  difficulties.  They  cannot  understand 
the  comparative  influence  which  God  and  man  have  over 
the  human  heart,  and  hence  they  remain  at  a  stand,  not 
knowing  what  to  do.  They  forget  that  the  difficulty,  great 
as  it  is,  is  one  of  speculation  not  of  action,  and  therefore  they 
ought  not  to  waste  a  thought  upon  it,  until  at  least  they  have 
made  peace  with  God.  Two  separate  duties  are  required. 
We  can  understand  them  well  enough, — and  they  are  not 
inconsistent  with  each  other.  Exert  yourselves  to  the  ut- 
most in  seeking  salvation.  What  difficulty  is  there  in  this  ? 
Place  all  your  hope  of  success  in  God.  What  difficulty  is 
there  in  this?  And  what  difficulty  is  there  in  making  ex- 
ertion ourselves,  and  feeling  reliance  on  God  at  the  same 
time.  There  is  none.  It  has  been  done  a  thousand  times. 
It  is  doing  by  thousands  now.  It  can  be  done  by  all.  But 
we  cannot  understand,  it  may  be  said,  the  principle  upon 
which  these  two  duties  are  enjoined.      True,  we  cannot  un- 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  103 

Objects  of  this  chapter.  1.  Inquirers.  Disobedient  school-boy. 

derstand  it.  The  theory  is  involved  in  darkness  in  which 
any  who  choose,  may  easily  lose  themselves.  But  the  duties 
are  plain.  God  has  enjoined  them,  and,  as  dutiful  children, 
we  ought  to  feel  that  if  he  clearly  tells  us  what  we  are  to  do, 
he  may  properly  conceal  in  many  cases  the  reasons  of  his  re- 
quirements. 

There  are  three  or  four  very  common  evils,  which,  by  tak- 
ing up  the  subject  of  this  chapter  so  formally,  I  have  been 
wishing  to  remove.     I  will  mention  them. 

1.  The  useless  perplexity  of  religious  inquirers.  A  young 
person,  perhaps  one  of  my  readers,  is  almost  persuaded 
to  be  a  Christian.  You  reflect  upon  your  lost  condition 
as  a  sinner,  and  feel  desolate  and  unhap  py.  You  think  of 
God's  goodness  to  you,  and  are  half  inclined  to  come  to  him. 
Instead,  however,  of  thinking  only  of  your  duty,  and  spend- 
ing all  your  strength  in  resisting  temptation,  and  in  com- 
mencing a  life  of  practical  piety,  you  immediately  sieze  upon 
some  theoretical  difficulty  connected  with  theology,  and 
trouble  yourself  about  that.  Perhaps  j^ou  cannot  understand 
how  God  influences  the  human  heart,  or  how  man  can  be 
accountable  if  the  Holy  Spirit  alone  sanctifies.  "  How  can 
I  work  out  my  own  salvation,"  you  say,  "  if  it  is  God  who 
worketh  in  me  to  will  and  to  do?"  Or  perhaps  you  perplex 
your  head  about  the  magnitude  or  the  duration  of  future 
punishment, — or  the  number  who  will  be  saved, — as  though 
the  administration  of  Jehovah's  government  would  come 
upon  your  shoulders,  if  you  became  a  Christian,  and  you 
must  therefore  understand  thoroughly  its  principles  before 
you  incur  such  a  responsibility.  How  absurd !  Can  you 
not  trust  God  to  manage  his  own  empire,  at  least  until  after 
you  have  come  yourself  fully  over  to  his  side  1 

Suppose  a  child  were  to  show  a  disobedient  and  rebellious 
spirit  in  school,  and  should  be  called  upon  by  his  teacher  to 
reform,  and  should,  after  pausing  a  moment,  begin  to  say, 
"  I  ought  to  conduct  differently,  I  know,  and  I  think  seri- 
ously of  returning  to  my  duty.  But  there  are  some  things 
about  it  which  I  do  not  understand." 

"What  things'?"  says  the  teacher. 

"  Why,"  says  the  boy,  "  I  do  not  see  what  I  should  do  if 
you  and  my  father  were  to  command  me  to  do  opposite 
things.     I  do  not  clearly  understand  who  I  ought  to  obey." 

"  Do  you  not  know,"  replies  the  teacher,  "  that  you  now 
disobey  me  in  cases  where  your  father  and  myself  both  wish 


104  VroUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

2.  Perplexities  of  Christians.  Way  to  avoid  them. 

you  to  obey  ?  Come  and  do  your  duty  in  these.  You  have 
nothing  to  do  with  such  a  question  as  you  mention.  Come 
and  do  your  duty." 

"  But,"  says  the  boy,  "  there  is  another  great  ditficuhy, 
whicli  I  never  could  understand.  Suppose  my  father  or  3'ou 
should  command  me  to  do  something  wrong.  Then  I  should 
be  bound  to  obey  my  father,  and  also  bound  not  to  do  what 
is  wrong.  Now  I  cannot  understand  what  is  my  duty  in 
such  a  case." 

Thus  he  goes  on.  Instead  of  returning  immediately  to  the 
right  path,  becoming  a  dutiful  son  and  a  docile  pupil,  at 
once,  in  the  lhousa7id  plain  cases,  which  are  every  day  oc- 
curring, he  looks  every  way,  in  search  of  difficulties,  with 
which  he  hopes  to  perplex  his  teacher,  and  excuse  his  neg- 
lect of  duty. 

Speculating  inquirer, — are  you  not  doing  the  same? 
When  it  is  most  plainly  your  duty  to  begin  to  love  God  and 
serve  him  at  once,  in  the  thousand  plain  instances  which 
occur  daily,  instead  of  doing  it  with  all  your  heart,  trusting 
in  God  that  he  will  do  right, — do  you  not  search  through 
the  whole  administration  of  his  government,  for  fancied  diffi- 
culties,— difficulties  to  your  feeble  powers, — feeble  originally, 
but  rendered  feebler  still  by  your  continuance  in  sin.  With 
these  difficulties  you  embarrass  yourself,  and  strive  to  perplex 
your  minister,  or  your  Sabbath  School  teacher,  or  your  pa- 
rent,— and  thus  find  a  momentary  respite  from  the  reproach- 
es of  a  wounded  spirit,  by  carrying  the  war  away  from  your 
own  conscience,  which  is  the  proper  field,  into  your  pastoi^'s  or 
your  parent's  intellect.  While  the  argument  is  going  on 
here,  your  sense  of  guilt  subsides, — conscience  is  seared,  and 
you  fall  back  to  coldness  and  hardness  of  heart.  Now  why 
will  you  thus  waste  your  time  and  your  moral  strength,  on 
questions  in  regard  to  which  you  have  no  responsibilitj-,  in- 
stead of  walking  in  the  plain  path  of  duty,  which  lies  open 
before  you  1 

2.  Useless  perplexities  of  Christians.  In  bringing  up 
to  view,  so  plainly,  the  insuperable  difficulties  connected 
with  religious  truth,  I  have  been  hoping  to  divert  the 
minds  of  experienced  Christians  from  being  perplexed 
and  embarrassed  by  them.  Once  make  up  your  mind 
fully  and  cordially,  that  there  are  depths  which  the 
sounding  line  of  your  intellect  will  not  and  cannot  reach, 
and  you  will  repose  in  the  conviction  that  you  do  not  and 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  105 

Plausible  reasoning  sometimes  unsafe.  Scholars  in  Geometry. 

cannot  now  know,  with  a  peace  of  mind  which  jou  cannot, 
in  any  other  way,  secure.  How  many  persons  perplex 
themselves  again  and  again,  and  go  on  perplexing  them- 
selves all  through  life,  to  understand  thoroughly  the  precise 
and  exact  relation  which  Jesus  Christ  bears  to  the  Father. 
The  Bible  gives  us,  clearly,  and  in  simple  and  definite  lan- 
guage all  about  the  Saviour,  which  it  is  of  practical  impor- 
tance for  us  to  know.  The  Word  ivas  God,  and  the  Word 
became  Jlesh,  or  man.  Now  just  be  willing  to  stop  here. 
"  But  no,"  says  some  one  who  loves  his  Saviour,  and  wishes 
to  understand  his  character,  "  I  want  to  have  clear  ideas  on 
this  subject.  I  want  to  know  precisely  ivhat  relation  he 
sustai7is  to  the  Father,  before  he  became  man.  Was  he  in 
all  respects  identical  1  or  was  he  a  different  being,  or  a  diffe- 
rent person,  and  what  is  the  difference  between  a  person  and 
a  being  1  When  he  became  man,  I  want  to  know  precisely 
how  the  two  natures  came  together." 

"  You  want  to  know,  but  how  will  you  ascertain?  Does 
the  Bible  tell  you  ?  It  tells  you  that  your  Saviour  was  God, 
and  that  he  became  man.  If  you  rest  upon  the  Bible,  you 
must  stop  here.  Will  you  trust  to  your  own  speculations, 
will  you  build  up  inferences  upon  what  the  Bible  states,  and 
think,  if  you  are  cautious  in  your  reasoning,  you  can  be  safe 
in  your  conclusions  ?  You  cannot  be  safe  in  your  conclu- 
sions. No  mind  can  be  trusted  a  moment,  to  draw  conclu- 
sions from  well  established  premises,  on  a  subject  which  it 
does  not  full/i/  grasp. 

If  you  doubt  this,  just  make  the  following  experiment. 
Undertake  to  teach  the  elements  of  geometry  to  a  class  of  in- 
telligent young  people,and  as  they  go  on  from  truth  to  truth, 
lead  them  into  conversation,  induce  them  to  apply  the  active 
energies  of  their  minds  to  the  subject,  in  reasoning,  themselves, 
from  the  truths  which  their  text-book  explains,  and  you  will 
soon  be  convinced  how  far  the  human  mind  can  be  trusted 
in  its  inferences  on  a  subject  which  is  beyond  its  grasp. 
Your  pupils  will  bring  you  apparent  contradictions,  arising, 
as  they  think  they  can  show,  from  the  truths  established,  and 
will  demonstrate,  most  satisfactorily  to  themselves,  the  most 
absurd  propositions.  In  one  case,  an  intelligent  scholar,  in 
a  class  m  college,  attempted  to  demonstrate  the  absurdity  of 
the  famous  forty-seventh.  He  drew  his  diagram,  and  wrote 
out  his  demonstration,  and  showed  it  to  his  class,  and  it  was 
long  before  any  of  them  could  detect  the  fallacy.     In  an« 


106  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Drawing  inferences.  Story  of  the  knights  and  the  statue. 

other  case,  a  class,  just  beginning  the  study,  were  told  that 
the  trisection  of  an  arc  was  a  difficult  problem,  and  soon 
after,  a  member  brought  a  solution,  which  consisted  in  tri- 
secting the  chord,  and  transferring  the  divisions  by  radii  to 
the  arc.  The  mathematical  reader  will  understand  this,  and 
all  may  understand,  that,  in  both  these  cases,  the  pupil  made 
out  a  chain  of  reasoning,  perfectly  satisfactory,  to  his  own 
mind,  which,  however,  led  to  absurdity  and  falsehood. 

You  say,  perhaps,  "  Well,  this  was  because  thej^  had  just 
begun  the  study ;  they  knew  scarcely  any  thing  about  it. 
Such  mistakes  would  only  be  made  by  the  merest  begin- 
ners." 

That  is  exactly  what  I  wish  you  to  say,  and  to  admit  the 
same  thing  in  regard  to  ourselves  as  students  of  religious 
truth.  We  are  mere  beginners;  we  know  almost  nothing  of 
such  subjects  as  God,  eternity,  and  the  constitution  of  mind. 
The  moment,  therefore,  we  leave  the  plain  propositions  of 
the  Bible,  which  are  all  that  are  necessarj^  for  us  to  under- 
stand,— and  go  to  draunng  i7ifere?ices,  we  involve  ourselves 
in  absurdity  and  falsehood,  no  matter  how  directly  and  inev- 
itably our  inferences  seem  to  follow.  Whenever  I  hear  a 
man  attempting  to  prove,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  that 
the  Word  could  not  have  been  God,  and  afterwards  have 
become  flesh,  or,  that  God  cannot  reign  in  the  heart,  as  the 
Bible  says  he  does,  and  yet  leave  man  free  and  accountable, 
I  always  think  of  the  college  sophomore,  endeavoring,  by 
l>is  own  reasoning,  to  upset  the  proposition  of  Pythagoras. 

These  subjects,  which  are  too  difficult  in  their  very  na- 
ture for  our  powers,  are  the  source  of  very  many  of  the  un- 
happy controversies  which  agitate  the  church.  The  mind 
is  not  capable  of  grasping  fully  the  whole  truth.  Each  side 
seizes  a  part,  and,  building  its  own  inferences  upon  these 
partial  premises,  they  soon  find  that  their  own  opinions  come 
into  collision  with  those  of  their  neighbors.  Moralists  tell 
the  following  story,  which  very  happily  illustrates  this  spe- 
cies of  controversy. 

In  the  days  of  knight  errantr3^  when  individual  adven- 
turers rode  about  the  world,  seeking  employment  in  their 
profession,  which  was  that  of  the  sword,  two  strong  and 
warlike  knights,  coming  from  , opposite  directions,  met  each 
other  at  a  place  where  a  statue  was  erected.  On  the  arm  of 
the  statue  was  a  shield,  one  side  of  which  was  of  iron,  the 
other  of  brass,  and,  as  our  two  heroes  reined  up  their  steeds, 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  107 


The  shield  of  brass  and  iron.  One  kind  of  controversy. 

the  Statue  was  upon  the  side  of  the  road,  between  them,  in 
such  a  manner,  that  the  shield  presented  its  surface  of  brass 
to  the  one,  and  of  iron  to  the  other.  Thej  mimediatelj  fell 
into  conversation  in  regard  to  the  structure  before  them,  when 
one,  incidentally  alludmg  to  the  iron  shield,  the  other  cor- 
rected him,  bj  remarkmg  that  it  was  of  brass.  The  knight 
upon  the  iron  side,  of  course,  did  not  receive  the  correction. 
He  maintained  that  he  was  right,  and,  after  carrjmg  on 
the  controversy  for  a  short  time  by  harsh  language  they  grad- 
ually grew  angry,  and  soon  drew  their  swords.  A  long  and 
furious  combat  ensued,  and  when  at  last  both  were  exhausted, 
unhorsed,  and  lying  wounded  upon  the  ground, — they  found 
that  the  whole  cause  of  their  trouble  was,  that  they  could 
not  see  both  sides  of  a  shield  at  a  time. 

Now  religious  truth  is  sometimes  such  a  shield,  loith  vari- 
ous aspects,  and  the  human  mind  cannot  clearly  see  all  at  a 
time.  Two  Christian  knights,  clad  in  strong  armor,  come 
up  to  some  such  subject  as  moral  agency,  and  view  it  from 
opposite  stations.  One  looks  at  the  power  which  man  has 
over  his  heart,  and,  laying  his  foundation  there,  he  builds  up 
his  theory  upon  that  alone.  Another  looks  upon  the  divine 
power  in  the  human  heart,  and,  laying  his  own  separate 
foundation,  builds  up  his  theory.  The  human  mind  is  in- 
capable, in  fact,  of  grasping  the  subject, — of  understand- 
ing how  man  can  be  free  and  accountable,  and  yet  be  so 
much  under  the  control  of  God  as  the  Bible  represents.  Our 
Christian  soldiers,  however,  do  .  not  consider  this.  Each 
takes  his  own  view,  and  carries  it  out  so  far,  as  to  interfere 
with  that  of  the  other.  They  converse  about  it, — they  talk 
more  and  more  warmly — then  a  long  controversy  ensues — 
if  they  have  influence  over  others,  their  dispute  agitates  the 
church,  and  divides  brethren  from  brethren ;  and  why  1 
Why,  just  because  our  Creator  has  so  formed  us,  that  we 
cannot,  from  one  point  of  view,  see  both  sides  of  the  shield 
at  the  same  time.  The  combatants,  after  a  long  battle,  are 
both  unhorsed  and  wounded  ;  their  usefulness  and  their 
Christian  character  is  injured  or  destroyed. 

Now  what  is  the  true  course  for  us  to  take  in  regard  to 
such  a  subject.  Simply  this.  Look  at  our  dependence  on 
God  for  a  change  of  heart  and  for  the  exercise  of  right  feel- 
ing, just  as  the  Bible  presents  this  subject,  and  go  cordially 
and  fully  just  as  far  as  the  Bible  goes,  which  is  a  great  way. 
Fix  in  your  heart  that  feeling  of  dependence  and  humility, 


108  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Difficulties  of  children.  Children's  questions. 

which  this  view  is  calculated  to  give.  Then  look  at  the 
other  aspect  of  this  subject,  the  active  power  of  man,  and  go 
here,  just  as  far  as  the  Bible  goes ;  and  carefully  learn 
the  lesson  of  diligence  which  it  teaches.  Suppose  you 
cannot  find  where  the  tw^o  come  together,  be  wilhng  to  be 
ignorant  of  a  theory  which  God  has  notrevealed. 

It  has  been  my  design  in  presenting  this  subject,  to  con- 
vince Christians  that  they  cannot  understand  every  thing 
connected  with  Christian  theology,  and  to  try  to  induce 
them  to  repose  willingly  and  peacefully,  and  in  a  sense  of 
ignorance  which  they  fully  realize  and  frankly  acknow- 
ledge. 

3.  Difficulties  of  children.  I  have  discussed  this  subject 
too  with  direct  reference  to  children,  for  the  sake  of  trying 
to  guard  you  against  two  faults.  One  is  coming  to  your 
parents  or  teachers  with  questions  and  expecting  that  they 
can,  in  all  cases,  give  a  satisfactory  answer.  They  cannot. 
They  do  not  know.  The  wisest  parent, — the  highest  intel- 
lect, is  incapable  of  answering  the  questions  which  the 
youngest  child  can  ask  in  regard  to  the  truths  of  Christianity. 
Do  not  expect  it  then.  You  may  ask  questions  freely,  but 
when  the  answers  are  not  perfectly  satisfactory  to  you,  con- 
sider the  subject  as  beyond  the  grasp  of  your  present  powers. 
Be  satisfied  if  you  can  understand  the  principles  of  duty, 
and  spend  your  moral  strength  in  endeavoring  to  be  as 
faithful  as  possible  there. 

There  is  one  other  suggestion  which  I  wish  to  make  to 
you.  When  you  carry  questions  or  difficulties  of  any  kind 
to  your  parents  or  teachers,  be  very  careful  to  be  actuated  by 
a  sincere  desire  to  learn,  instead  of  coming,  as  young  per- 
sons very  often  do,  with  a  secret  desire  to  display  their  own 
acuteness  and  discrimination  in  seeing  the  difficulty.  Ho"w 
often  have  young  persons  brought  questions  to  me,  when  it 
has  been  perfectly  evident  that  their  whole  object  was,  not  to 
be  taught,  but  to  show  me  their  own  shrewdness  and  dex- 
terity. They  listen  in  such  cases  to  what  I  say,  not  to  be 
taught  by  it,  but  to  think  what  they  can  reply  to  it,  and  bring 
objection  upon  objection  with  a  spirit  which  refuses  to  be  sat- 
isfied. Be  careful  to  avoid  this.  Ask  for  the  sake  of  learn- 
ing. Listen  with  a  predisposition  to  be  satisfied  with  the 
answer.  And  never  enter  into  argument,  and  take  3''our 
side,  and  dispute  with  your  parent  or  your  teacher.     If  you 


DIFFICULTIES    IN    RELIGION.  109 

4,  Difficulties  ot'  Parents  and  Teachers.  The  school  boy's  question. 

have  this  spirit  and  exercise  it,  an  intelligent  parent  will  al- 
ways det'xt  It. 

4.  Dijficidties  of  parents  a?id  teachers.  I  wish  to  have 
this  discussion  the  means  of  helping  parents  and  teachers, 
and  older  brothers  and  sisters,  out  of  one  of  their  most  com- 
mon ditficulties.  I  mean  that  of  answering  questions 
brought  to  them  by  the  young.  Learn  to  say,  "  I  do  not 
know."  If  you  really  will  learn  to  say  this  frankly  and 
openly,  it  will  help  you  out  of  a  vast  many  troubles. 

You  are  a  Sabbath  school  teacher  1  will  imagine.  A 
bright  looking  boy,  whose  vanity  has  been  fanned  by  flattery, 
says  to  you,  before  his  class, 

"  There  is  one  thing  in  the  lesson  I  do  not  understand.  It 
says  God  made  the  earth  first,  and  afterwards  the  sun.  Now 
the  sun  stands  still,  and  the  earth  and  all  the  planets  move 
round  it.  It  seems  to  me  therefore  that  he  would  have  been 
more  likely  to  have  created  the  sun  first,  for  that  is  the  larg- 
est and  is  m  the  middle, — and  afterwards  the  planets." 

As  he  says  this,  you  see  a  half  smile  of  self-complacency 
upon  his  countenance,  as  he  looks  round  upon  his  classmates, 
to  observe  how  they  receive  this  astonishing  display  of  youth- 
ful acumen.  If  now  you  attempt  any  explanation,  he  does 
not  follow  you  with  any  desire  to  have  the  difiicuitj^  remov- 
ed. He  either  is  absorbed  in  thinking  how  shrewdly  he  dis- 
covered and  expressed  the  difficult3^  or  else,  if  he  listens  to 
your  reply,  it  is  to  find  something  in  it  upon  which  he  can 
hang  a  new  question,  or  prolong  the  difiicultj^  He  feels  a 
sort  of  pride  in  not  having  his  question  easily  answerable. 
He  cannot  be  instructed  while  in  this  state  of  mind. 

"  What  then  would  you  say  to  a  boy  in  such  a  case  ?" 
you  will  ask. 

I  would  sa}^  this  to  him.  "  I  do  not  understand  that  very 
well  myself  I  know  nothing  about  the  creation  but  what 
that  chapter  tells  me.  You  can  thmk  about  it,  and  perhaps 
some  explanation  will  occur  to  you.  In  the  mean  time  it  is 
not  very  necessary  for  us  to  know.  It  is  not  necessary  for 
you  to  understand  exactly  how  God  made  the  world,  in  or- 
der to  enable  you  to  be  a  good  boy  next  week." 

Take  another  case.  You  are  a  sister.  You  love  the 
Saviour,  and  have  endeavored  to  win  your  younger  sistei^'s 
heart  to  him.  You  have  taught  her  to  feel  the  happiness 
of  confessing  her  sins,  and  doing  her  duty,  and  through  your 
kind  and  gentle  influence,  she  is  growing  up  daily  to 
10 


110  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

The  sisters.  Evening  conversation.  A  humble,  docile  spirit. 

piety.  Every  evening,  when  she  lies  down  to  sleep,  you 
sit  a  few  minutes  by  her  bedside,  and  review  with  her  the 
duties  and  the  sins  of  the  day,  and  accompany  her  in 
her  evening  prayer  for  forgiveness  and  peace  and  protec- 
tion. You  have  explained  to  her  the  sympathy  of  her  Sa- 
viour, and  taught  her  to  repose  her  trust  in  him.  She  has 
accordingly  studied  his  character,  she  reads  with  interest 
what  the  Bible  says  of  him,  and  she  brings  with  confidence 
her  questions  to  you. 

"  Sister,"  she  says  to  you,  just  as  3^ou  are  about  to  bid  her 
good  night,  "  I  wish  you  would  explain  to  me  one  thing 
which  1  do  not  fully  understand.  If  Jesus  Christ  was  God, 
how  could  he  pray  to  God  while  he  was  in  the  garden  ?  I 
never  could  understand  this,  I  have  thought  a  good  many 
times  I  would  ask  you" 

She  says  these  words  with  a  tone  and  n:anner  which 
speak  liiunility  and  a  sincere  desire  for  instruction.  She 
looks  and  speaks  as  if  she  was  exposing  ignorance,  not  as 
in  the  other  case,  displaying  sagacity.  Still  j^ou  cannot 
explain  this  difficulty.  The  greatest  theological  scholar  in 
Christendom  will  acknowledge  that  he  cannot  remove  it 
from  his  own  mind,  and  how  can  you  expect  to  remove  it . 
from  that  of  a  child  ?  If  you  attempt  it,  you  peq^lex  your- 
self and  her.  She  thinks  you  understand  it,  because  you 
attemiU  to  explain  it,  and  she  is  distressed  because  she  can- 
not follow  you. 

"  What  shall  I  say  then  ?"  you  will  ask. 
"  Say  this.  '  I  do  not  understand  it,  sister.  The  Bible 
says  that  Jesus  Christ  was  God  and  was  with  God.  This 
seems  clearly  to  mean  that  he  was  in  some  sense  the  same, 
but  in  some  sense  different.  But  I  cannot  clearly  conceive 
how.  I  must  believe  what  the  Bible  says  about  it  and  per- 
haps in  another  world  we  shall  understand  it.  In  the  mean 
time  we  can  trust  in  the  Saviour,  and  love  him,  and  he  will 
take  care  of  us,  and  save  us  at  last.  You  are  willing,  are 
you  not,  to  go  on,  trying  to  do  your  duty,  and  seeking  to 
please  him,  and  to  wait  till  God  shall  show  you  at  some  fu- 
ture time  his  full  character.'  " 

"  Yes  sister,"  she  may  be  expected  to  reply,  "  good  night." 
And  thus  universally,  the  possession  of  a  humble,  docile 
spirit,  and  a  consciousness  of  the  weakness  of  our  powers, 
will  disarm  every  theoretical  difficulty  of  its  power  to  per- 
plex us,  or  to  disturb  our  peace. 


CHAPTER     VII. 

EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY, 

"  God,  who  at  sundry  times,  and  in  divers  manners,  spake  in  time  past; 
unio  the  fathers  by  the  prophets,  hath,  in  these  last  days,  spoken  unto  us  by  his 
Son." 

The  first  inquiry  which  meets  us  in  entering  upon  the 
consideration  of  this  subject,  is, — "  Wliat  sort  of  evidence 
are  we  to  expect  ?"  The  only  proper  answer  is,  that  sort  of  evi- 
dence >  h  ch  men  require  to  produce  conviction  and  to  con- 
trol the  conduct  in  other  cases.  The  human  mind  is  so  consti- 
tuted that  men  are  governed  by  a  certain  kind  and  degree  of 
evidence,  in  all  the  concerns  of  life, — a  kind  and  a  degree 
which  is  adapted  to  the  cu'cumstances  in  which  we  are 
placed  here.  This  evidence,  however,  almost  always  falls 
very  far  short  of  dcmonstrcUio7i,  or  absolute  certainly.  Still 
it  is  enough  to  control  the  conduct.  By  the  influence  of  it 
a  man  will  emba  k  in  the  most  momentous  enterprises,  and 
he  is  often  induced  by  it  to  abandon  his  most  favorite  plans. 

Still  it  is  very  far  short  of  demonstration  or  absolute  cer- 
tainty. For  example,  a  merchant  receives  in  his  counting 
room  a  newspaper,  which  marks  the  prices  of  some  species 
of  goods,  at  a  foreign  port,  as  very  high.  He  immediately 
determines  to  purchase  a  quantity  and  to  send  a  cargo  there. 
But  suppose,  as  he  is  making  arrangements  for  this  purpose, 
his  clerk  should  say  to  him,  "  Perhaps  this  information 
may  not  bo  correct.  The  correspondent  of  the  editor  may  have 
made  a  false  statement  for  some  fraudulent  purpose,  or  the 
communication  may  have  been  forged  ;  or  some  evil  mind- 
ed person  having  the  article  in  question  for  sale  may  have 
contrived  by  stealth  to  alter  the  types,  so  as  to  cause  the  pa- 
per to  make  a  false  report,  at  least  in  some  of  the  copies." 

Now  in  such  a  case  would  the  merchant  be  influenced  in 
the  slightest  degree  by  such  a  sceptical  spirit  as  this  ?  Would 
he  attempt  to  reply  to  these  suppositions,  and  to  show  that 
the  channel  of  communication  jjetween  the  distant  port  and 
Ins  ow.i  counting  room,  could  not  have  been  broken  in  upon 


112  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

The  doubling  clerk.  The  unexpected  letter.  The  sick  child. 

by  fraud,  somewhere  in  its  course,  so  as  to  bring  a  false 
statement  to  him  ?  He  could  not  s\iow  this.  His  onl}'  reply 
must  be,  if  he  should  reply  at  all.  "  The  evidence  of  this 
printed  sheet  is  not  perfect  demonstration,  but  it  is  just  such 
evidence  in  kind  and  degree,  as  I  act  upon  in  all  my  busi- 
ness. And  it  is  enough.  Were  I  to  pause,  with  the  spirit 
of  your  present  objections,  and  refuse  to  act  whenever  such 
doubts  as  those  you  have  presented  might  be  entertained,  I 
might  close  my  business  at  once,  and  spend  life  in  inaction.  I 
could  not,  in  one  case  in  ten  thousand,  get  the  evidence 
which  would  satisfy  such  a  spirit." 

Again.  You  are  a  parent  I  suppose.  Yon  have  a  son 
travelling  at  a  distance  from  home,  and  you  receive  some  day 
a  letter  from  the  Post  Office,  in  a  strange  hand  writing,  and 
signed  by  a  name  you  have  never  heard,  informing  you  that 
3''our  son  has  been  taken  sick,  at  one  of  the  villages  on  his 
route,  and  that  he  is  lying  dangerously  ill  at  the  house  of 
the  writer,  and  that  he  has  requested  that  his  father  might 
be  informed  of  his  condition,  and  urged  to  come  and  see  him 
before  he  dies. 

Where  now  is  the  father,  who,  in  such  a  case  would  say, 
to  himself,  "  stop  this  may  be  a  deception.  Some  one  may 
have  forged  this  letter  to  impose  upon  me.  Or  there  may 
be  no  such  person.  Before  I  take  this  journey,  I  mast  write 
to  some  responsible  man  in  that  village,  to  ascertain  the 
facts. 

No ;  instead  of  looking  with  suspicion  upon  the  letter, 
scrutinizing  it  carefully  to  find  marks  of  counterfeiting,  he 
would  not  even  read  it  a  second  time.  As  soon  as  he  had 
caught  a  glimpse  of  its  contents,  he  would  throw  it  hastily 
aside,  and  urging  the  arrangements  for  his  departure  to  the 
utmost,  he  would  hasten  away,  saying,  "  Let  me  go,  as  soon 
as  possible,  to  my  dying  son." 

I  will  state  one  more  case,  though  perhaps  it  is  so  evident 
upon  a  moment's  reflection,  that  men  do  not  wait  for  perfect 
certainty  in  the  evidence  upon  which  they  act, — that  I  have 
already  stated  too  many. 

Your  child  is  sick,  and  as  he  lies  tossing  in  a  burning  fe- 
ver on  his  bed,  the  physician  comes  in  to  visit  him.  He 
looks  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  patient, — examines  the  symp- 
toms,— and  then  hastily  writes  an  almost  illegible  prescrip- 
tion, whose  irregular  and  abbreviated  characters  are  entirely 
unintelligible  to  all  but  professional  eyes.     You  give  this 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  113 

Possible  mislcikes.  ^  Men  act  from  reasonable  evidence. 

prescription  to  a  messenger, — perhaps  to  some  one  whom  jou 
do  not  know,— and  he  carries  it  to  the  apothecary,  who  from 
the  indiscriminate  multitude  of  jars  and  drawers  and  boxes, 
filled  with  every  powerful  medicine  and  corroding  acid,  and 
deadly  poison,  selects  a  little  here  and  a  little  there,  with 
which,  talking  perhaps  all  the  time  to  those  around  him,  he 
compounds  a  remedy  for  your  son.  The  messenger  brings 
it  to  the  sick  chamber,  and  as  he  puts  it  into  yoiu  hands,  do 
you  think  of  stopping  to  consider  the  possibility  of  a  mis- 
take ?  How  easy  might  the  physician  by  substituting  one 
barbarous  Latin  name  for  another,  or  by  making  one  little 
character  too  few  or  too  many,  so  alter  the  ingredients,  or  the 
proportions  of  the  mixture,  as  to  convert  that,  which  was  in- 
tended to  be  a  remedy,  to  an  active  and  fatal  poison.  How 
easily  might  the  apothecary  by  using  the  wrong  weight,  or 
mistaking  one  white  powder  for  another  precisely  similar  in 
appearance,  or  by  giving  your  messenger  the  parcel  intended 
for  another  customer,  send  you,  not  a  remedy  which  would 
allay  the  fever  and  bring  repose  to  the  restless  child, — but  an 
irritating  stimulus,  which  should  urge  on  to  double  fury  the 
raging  of  the  fever,  or  terminate  it  at  once  by  sudden  death. 

How  possible  are  these,  but  who  stops  to  consider  them  ? 
How  absurd  would  it  be  to  consider  them  !  You  administer 
the  remedy  with  unhesitating  confidence,  and  in  a  few  days 
the  returning  health  of  your  child,  shows  that  it  is  wise  for 
you  to  act,  even  in  cases  of  life  and  death,  on  reasonable  evi- 
dence, without  waiting  for  the  absolute  certainty  of  moral 
demonstration. 

Now  this  is  'exactly  the  case  with  the  subject  of  the 
Christian  religion.  It  comes  purporting  to  be  a  message 
from  heaven,  and  it  brings  with  it  just  such  a  kind  of  evi- 
dence, as  men  act  upon  in  all  their  other  concerns.  The 
-evidence  is  abundantly  satisfactory ;  at  the  same  time  how- 
ever, any  one  who  dislikes  the  truths,  or  the  requirements  of 
this  gospel,  nifty  easily,  like  the  sceptical  clerk  in  the  case 
above  mentioned,  make  objections  and  difficulties  in  abun- 
dance. A  man  may  be  an  infidel  if  he  pleases.  There  is 
no  such  irresistible  weight  of  argument  that  the  mind  is  ab- 
solutely forced  to  admit  it,  as  it  is  to  believe  that  two  and 
three  make  five.  In  regard  to  this  latter  truth,  such  is  the 
nature  of  the  human  mind  that  there  is  not,  and  there  cannot 
be  in  the  whole  human  family,  an  individual  who  can  doubt  it. 
In  regard  to  Christianity,  however,  as  with  all  other  truths 
10* 


114  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Evidences  of  Christianity,  historical,  internal  and  experimental. 

of  a  moral  nature  which  regulate  the  moral  conduct  of  man- 
kind, there  is  no  such  irresistible  evidence.  The  light  is 
clear,  if  a  man  is  willing  to  see,  bat  it  is  hot  so  vividly  in- 
tense, as  to  force  itself  through  his  eyelids,  if  he  closes  them 
upon  it.     Any  one  may  walk  m  darkness  if  he  will. 

The  evidences  of  Christianty  are  usuallj'  considered  as  of 
two  kinds,  Historical  and  Internal.  There  may  properly  be 
added  a  third  which  I  shall  call  experimental.  These  three 
kinds  are  entirely  distinct  in  their  nature. 

1.  If  we  look  back  upon  the  past  history  of  Christianity, 
we  find  that  it  was  introduced  into  the  world  under  very  re- 
markable circumstances.  Miracles  were  performed,  and  fu- 
ture events  foretold,  in  attestation  of  its  divine  origin,  and  the 
founder  was  restored  to  life  after  being  crucified  by  his  ene- 
mies. These  with  the  various  circumstances  connected  with 
them,   constitute  the  historical  evidence  of  Christianity. 

2.  If  now  we  examine  the  book  itself ; — its  truths,  its  doc- 
trines, its  spirit, — we  find  that  it  is  exactly  such,  in  its  na- 
ture and  tendency,  as  we  should  expect  a  message  from  Je- 
hovah to  such  beings  as  we,  would  be.  This  is  the  Inter- 
nal evidence. 

3.  Now  if  we  look  upon  the  effects  which  the  Bible  pro- 
duces, all  around  us,  upon  the  guilt  and  misery  of  society, 
wherever  it  is  faithfully  and  properly  applied,  we  find  it  effi- 
cient for  the  purposes  for  which  it  was  sent.  It  comes  to 
cure  the  diseases  of  sin, — and  it  does  cure  them.  It  is  in- 
tended to  lead  men  to  abandon  vice  and  crime,  and  to  bring 
them  to  God,  and  it  does  bring  them  by  hundreds  and' thou- 
sands. If  we  make  the  experiment  with  it,  we  find  that  it 
succeeds,  in  accomplishing  its  objects.  This  we  may  call 
the  experimental  eoidence. 

These  three  kinds  of  evidence  are  so  entirely  distinct  in 
their  nature,  that  they  apply  to  other  subjects.  You  have  a 
substance  which  you  suppose  is  phosphorus.  For  what  rea- 
son ?  Why,  in  the  first  place,  a  boy,  in  whom  you  place 
confidence,  brought  it  for  you,  from  the  chemist's,  and  he 
said  it  was  phosphorus.  This  is  the  historical  evidence.  It 
relates  to  the  history  of  the  article  before  it  came  into  your 
possession.  In  the  second  place,  you  examine  it,  and  it  looks 
like  phosphorus.  Its  color,  consistence  and  form  all  agree. 
This  is  internal  evidence.  It  results  from  internal  exami- 
nation.    In  the  third  place,  you  try  it.     It  burns  with  a 


EVIDENCES   OF    CHRISTIANITY.  115 

Illusiralioii.  The  Pliosphorus.  I.  Hislorial  Evidence.  Seal. 

most  bright  and  vivid  flame.  This  last  may  be  called  ex- 
perime?ital  evidence ;  and  it  ought  to  be  noticed,  that  this 
last  is  the  best  of  the  three.  No  matter  what  grounds  of 
doubt  and  hesitation  there  may  be  in  regard  to  the  first  and 
second  kinds  of  evidence,  if  the  article  simply  proves  its  pro- 
perties on  trial.  If  any  one  should  say  to  you,  "  I  have 
some  reason  to  suspect  that  your  message  was  not  honest, 
he  may  have  brought  something  else  ;  or  this  does  not  look 
exactly  like  real  phosphorus ;  it  is  too  dark  or  too  hard." 
Your  reply  would  be,  "  Sir,  there  can  be  no  possible  doubt 
about  it, — Just  see  how  it  burns  !" 

Just  so  with  the  evidences  of  Christianity.  It  is  interest- 
ing to  look  into  the  historical  evidences,  that  it  is  a  revelation 
from  heaven,  and  to  contemplate  also  the  internal  indica- 
tions of  its  origin,  but  after  all,  the  great  evidence  on  which 
it  is  best  for  Christi  ns,  especially  young  Christians,  to 
rely  for  the  divine  authority  of  the  Bible,  is  its  present  uni- 
versal and  irresistible  power  in  changing  character,  and 
saving  from  suffering  and  sin. 

I.    HISTORICAL    EVIDENCE. 

If  the  Creator  should  intend  to  send  a  communication  of 
his  will  to  his  creatures,  we  might  have  supposed  that  he 
would,  at  the  same  time  of  his  making  it  accompany  the 
revelation  with  something  or  other,  which  should  be  a  proof 
that  it  really  came  from  him.  Monarchs  have  always  had 
some  way  of  authenticating  their  communications  with  their 
subjects  or  with  distant  officers.  This  is  the  origin  of  the 
use  of  seals.  The  monarch  at  home  possesses  a  seal  of  a 
peculiar  character.  When  he  sends  any  communication  to 
a  distance,  he  impresses  this  seal  upon  the  wax  connected 
with  the  parchment  upon  which  the  letter  is  written.  This 
gives  it  authority.  No  one  else  possessing  such  a  seal,  it  is 
plain  that  no  one  tan  give  the  impression  of  it,  and  a  seal 
of  this  kind  is  very  difficult  to  be  counterfeited.  Various 
other  devices  have  been  resorted  to  by  persons  in  authority, 
to  authenticate  their  communications. 

In  the  same  manner  we  must  have  expected  that  Jehovah, 
when  he  sends  a  message  to  men,  will  have  some  way  of 
convincing  us  that  it  really  comes  from  him.  There  are  SD 
many  bad  men  in  the  world  who  are  willing  to  deceive  man- 
kind, that  we  could  not  possibly  tell,  when  a  pretended  rev- 


116  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 


Miracles.  Excimiiiin;;  uiiiie^ses.  Tlie  court. 

elation  coiiics  to  us,  whellicr  it  was  really  a  revelation  from 
heaven,  or  a  design  of  wicked  nien,  unless  God  should  set 
some  marks  upon  it,  or  accom^janj  it  with  some  indications 
which  bad  men  could  not  imitate. 

The  liible  professes  to  have  been  accompanied  by  such 
marks.  They  are,  the  power  of  working  miracles  and  for- 
telling  future  events,  possessed  by  those  who  brought  the 
various  messages  it  contains.  It  is  plain  that  man,  without 
divine  assistance,  could  have  had  no  such  power.  If  this 
power  then  really  accompanied  those  who  were  the  instm- 
ments  of  introducing  the  Christian  religion  into  the  world, 
we  may  safely  conclude  that  it  was  given  them  by  God, 
and  as  he  would  never  give  this  power  to  sanction  impos- 
ture, the  message  brought  must  be  from  him. 

The  way  then  to  ascertain  whether  these  miracles  were 
actually  performed  is  like  that  of  ascertaining  all  other  mat- 
ters of  fact,  b/  calling  upon  those  who  witnessed  the.n  for 
their  testiinoii}'-. 

The  manner  in  which  these  witnesses  are  to  be  ex- 
amined, is  similar  to  that  pursued  in  ordinary  courts  of 
justice.  It  is  similar,  I  mean,  in  its  principles,  not  in  its 
forms.  I  know  of  nothing  which  shows  more  convincingly 
the  satisfactory  nature  of  this  evidence,  than  a  comparison 
of  it  with  that  usually  relied  on  in  courts  of  justice.  In  or- 
der to  exhibit  the  former,  then,  distinctly,  I  shall  minutely 
describe  the  course  pursued,  and  to  make  my  description 
more  definite,  I  shall  select  a  pprticular  case. 

I  was  once  walking  in  the  streets  of  a  large  city,  in  which 
I  was  a  stranger,  looking  around  for  any  striking  exhibitions 
of  human  character  or  efforts,  when  I  saw  several  persons, 
of  apparently  low  rank  in  life,  standhig  before  the  door  of 
what  was  apparently  some  public  building.  I  thought  it 
was  probably  a  court  room,  and  that  these  were  the  men 
who  had  been  called  as  witnesses,  and  that  they  were  wait- 
ing for  their  turn  to  testify.  As  courts  are  always  open  to 
the  public,  I  concluded  to  go  in  nnl  hoar  some  of  the  causes. 
I  walked  up  the  steps,  and  entered  a  spacious  hall,  and  at 
the  foot  of  a  flight  of  stairs,  saw  a  little  painted  sign,  saying, 
that  the  court  room  was  above.  I  passed  up,  and  pushed 
open  the  light  baize  doc  r,  which  admitted  me  to  the  room 
itself 

At  the  end  at  which  I  entered,  there  were  two  rows  of 
seats,  one  row  on  each  side  of  an  aisle  which  led  up  through 


EVIDENCES  OF   CHRISTIANITY.  117 

The  court  room.  The  prisoner.  His  accusation  and  trial. 

the  centre.  These  seats  seemed  to  be  for  spectators,  for  those 
on  one  side  were  nearly  filled  with  women,  and  those  on  the 
other  by  men.  I  advanced  up  the  aisle  until  I  nearly  reach- 
ed the  centre  of  the  room,  and  then  took  my  seat  ami  ng  the 
spectators,  where  I  could  distinctly  hear  and  see  all  that 
passed.  Before  me,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room,  sat  the 
Judge,  in  a  sort  of  desk,  on  an  elevated  platform,  and,  in 
front  of  him,  was  another  desk,  lower,  which  was  occupied 
by  the  clerk,  whose  business  it  was  to  make  a  record  of  all 
the  causes  that  were  tried.  There  was  an  area  in  front  of 
the  judge,  in  which  were  seats  for  the  various  lawyers,  and 
in  boxes  at  the  sides,  were  seats  for  the  jury  who  were  to 
hear  the  evidence,  and  decide  what  facts  were  proved.  On 
one  side  of  the  room  was  a  door,  made  of  iron  grating,  with 
sharp  points  upon  the  top,  which  led,  I  supposed,  to  an  apart- 
ment where  the  prisoners  were  kept. 

Not  long  after  I  had  taken  my  seat,  the  clerk  said  that 
the  next  cause  was  the  trial  of  O.  B.  for  housebreaking. 
The  judge  commanded  an  officer  to  bring  the  prisoner  into 
court.  The  officer  went  to  the  iron  door  I  have  described, 
unlocked  it,  and  brought  out  of  the  room  into  which  it 
opened,  a  prisoner.  He  looked  guilty  and  ashamed.  His 
face  was  pale,  not  as  though  he  was  afraid,  but  as' if  his  con- 
stitution had  been  impaired  by  vice.  They  brought  him 
into  the  middle  of  the  room,  and  placed  him  in  a  sort  of 
pew,  with  high  sides,  and  shut  him  in.  He  leaned  against 
the  front  of  it,  looked  at  the  judge,  and  began  to  listen  to  his 
trial. 

The  clerk  read  the  accusation.  It  was,  that  he  had  brok- 
en open  an  unoccupied  house  once  or  twice,  and  taken  from 
it  articles  belonging  to  the  owner  of  the  house.  The  judge 
asked  him  if  he  pleaded  guilty  or  not  guilty.  He  said,  not 
guilty.  The  Judge  then  asked  the  jury  at  the  side,  to  listen 
to  the  evidence,  so  that  they  might  be  prepared  to  decide 
whether  this  man  did  break  open  the  house  or  not. 

Men  not  accustomed  to  speak  in  public  assemblies  could 
not  easily  give  their  testimony,  in  such  a  case,  so  that  it 
would  be  fully  understood  in  all  the  important  points.  In 
fact,  very  few  know  fully  what  the  important  points  are. 
Hence  it  is  necessary  that  there  should  be  lawyers  present, 
who  can  ask  questions,  and  thus  examine  the  witnesses  in 
such  a  manner,  as  to  bring  out  fully  all  the  facts  in  the  case. 
There  is  one  lawyer  appointed  by  the  government,  whose 


118  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Teslimony  of  llie  owner  5— of  ihe  \valciiin;in.  Tlie   lawyer's  question. 

business  it  is,  to  briDg  to  view  all  the  facts  which  indicate 
the  prisoner's  guilt,  and  another,  appointed  by  the  prisoner, 
who  takes  care  that  nothing  is  omitted  or  lost  sight  of,  which 
would  be  in  the  prisoner's  favor.  When  the  prisoner  has  not 
appointed  any  counsel,  the  judge  appoints  some  one  for  him  ; 
this  was  done  m  the  case  before  us. 

The  first  witness  who  was  called,  was  the  owner  of  the 
house.  It  is  necessary  that  each  v/itness  who  is  called, 
should  be  a  man  of  good  character,  and  that  he  should  testi- 
fy only  to  what  he  saw  or  heard.  No  one  is  permitted  to 
tell  what  some  one  else  told  him,  for  stories  are  very  likely 
to  be  altered  in  repetition,  so  that,  in  a  complicated  case, 
each  man  goes  only  so  far  as  his  own  personal  kjioicledge 
extends.  And,  in  order  to  be  sure  that  the  jury  shall  have 
his  own  story,  he  is  obliged  to  come  personally  into  court, 
and  tell  the  story  in  presence  of  all.  The  owner  of  this 
house  was  probably  a  man  o '  business,  and  a  great  deal  of 
valuable  time  would  have  been  saved,  if  he  had  been  per- 
mitted to  write  down  his  account  and  send  it  in, — but  no. 
Every  witness,  where  it  is  possible,  must  actually  come  into 
court,  and  present  his  evidence  with  his  own  voif^e.  This 
remark  it  is  important  to  remember,  as  the  principle  will 
come  to  view,  when  we  consider  the  other  case. 

The  owner  testified  that  he  owned  a  certain  house ;  that 
he  moved  out  of  it,  and  locked  it  up,  leaving  some  articles 
in  an  upper  chamber;  that  one  day  he  went  in  and  found 
that  the  house  had  been  entered,  I  believe  by  a  window,  and 
that  the  chamber  door  had  been  broken  open,  and  some  of 
the  articles  taken  away.  He  said  that  he  then  employed  a 
watchman  to  sleep  in  the  house,  and  to  try  to  catch  the 
thief. 

Here  he  had  to  stop,  for  although  he  knew  how  the 
watchman  succeeded,  he  was  not  permitted  to  tell,  for  he 
did  not  see  it.  No  man  testifies  except  to  what  he  has  seen 
or  heard. 

The  wat'^.hman  was  next  ca^'ed.  The  lawyer  for  the 
government  asked  him, 

"  Were  vou  employed  by  the  owner  of  this  house  to  watch 
for  a  thief  in  it  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  What  did  h'^  toll  you,  when  he  enga'ied  you?" 

"  He  told  me.  that  his  hovwe  h  id  been  broken  open,  and  he 
wished  me  to  watch  for  the  thief." 


EVIDENCES  OF   CHRISTIANITY.  119 


The  wdlchniaii's  siory.     The  pnsouer  coiivicied.     Poims  becuied  on  trials. 

"  Did  you  do  it?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Well,  relate  to  the  jury  what  occurred  that  night." 

"  I  watched  several  nights.  .  For  some  nights,  nothing 
occurred.     All  was  quiet  till  morning." 

"  In  what  room  did  jou  stay?" 

"  In  the  room  under  the  chamber,  from  which  the  articles 
had  been  stolen." 

"  Well,  go  on  with  your  account." 

"At  last,  on  the  15th  of  June,  as  I  was  then  watching, 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  heard  a  noise.  Some 
one  was  coming  softly  up  stairs.  He  went  up  into  the  room 
over  my  head,  and,  after  remaining  a  few  minutes  there,  he 
began  to  come  down.  I  immediately  went  out  into  the 
entry  and  seized  him,  and  took  him  to  the  watch-house. 
The  next  morning  he  was  put  in  prison." 

The  lawyer  then  pointed  to  the  prisoner  at  the  bar,  and 
asked  if  that  was  the  man.     The  witness  saia  it  was. 

The  judge  then  asked  the  counsel  for  the  prisoner  wheth- 
er he  had  any  questions  to  ask,  and  he  did  ask  one  or  two, 
but  they  were  not  material.  The  jury  then  consulted  to- 
gether, and  all  agreed  that  the  prisoner  was  proved  guilty, 
and  the  Judge  ordered  him  to  be  sent  back  to  the  prison,  till 
he  should  determine  what  punishment  must  be  assigned. 

This  is  substantially  the  way  in  which  all  trials  are  con- 
ducted. Three  or  four  points  are  considered  very  necessary. 
1.  That  the  witnesses  should  be  o/^-oofZ  cA«rrtc^L'r.  2.  That 
they  should  have  actually  witnessed  what  they  describe. 
And  3.  That  the  precise  account  which  they  themselves 
give,  should  come  into  court.  These  points,  the  Judge  or 
the  lawyers  secure.  The  latter  they  obtain,  by  having  the 
witness  himself  always  come,  if  it  is  possible,  even  if  he  has 
to  leave  most  important  business  for  this  purpose.  If,  from 
sickness,  or  any  other  similar  cause,  he  cannot  come,  his  tes- 
timony is  taken  down  in  writing,  and  signed  by  himself, 
and  that  paper,  the  very  one  which  he  signed,  must  be 
brought  into  court*  and  read  there.  This  is  called  a  depo- 
sition. The  second  point  is  secured  b}^  not  allowing  any 
man  to  go  any  farther  in  his  testimony  than  he  himself  saw 
or  heard.  So  that,  sometimes,  when  the  case  is  compHcat- 
ed,  a  very  large  number  of  witnesses  are  called  before  the 
whole  case  is  presented  to  the  jury.  The  first  they  secure, 
by  inquiring  into  the  character  of  the  witnesses.     If  any 


120  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Three  points  to  be  attended  to.  Irruption  of  the  barbarians. 

man  can  be  proved  to  be  unworthy  of  credit,  his  testimony 
is  set  aside. 

Now  all  these  points  must  be  looked  at  in  examining  the 
evidence  of  the  Christian  miracles. 

1.  We  must  ascertain  that  we  have  the  exact  account 
given  by  the  witnesses  themselves. 

2.  We  must  ascertain  that  they  had  distinct  opportunities 
to  witness  what  they  describe. 

3.  We  must  have  evidence  that  they  are  credible.  That 
is,  that  they  are  honest  men,  and  that  then-  word  can  be  re- 
lied upon. 

These  three  points  I  shall  examine  in  order,  in  reference 
to  the  Christian  miracles.  The  witnesses  are  the  four  evan- 
gelists, Matthew,  Mark,  Luke,  John,  and  the  first  inquiry, 
according  to  the  list  above  presented,  is  to  determme  whether 
we  have  exactly  the  account  which  they  themselves  give. 
Witnesses  are  commonly  called  into  court,  to  tell  their  own 
story  there,  and  then  there  can  be  no  mistake.  If  that  is 
impossible,  as  I  remarked  above,  their  deposition  is  taken, 
with  certain  forms,  and  the  very  paper  they  origmally  sign- 
ed, is  brought  and  read  in  court.  But  neither  of  these  courses 
can  be  taken  here.  For,  in  the  first  place,  the  witnesses 
have  been  for  a  long  time  dead,  so  that  they  cannot  come 
forward  to  give  then-  testimony  ;  and,  though  they  did  write 
a  full  account  at  the  time,  yet  it  was  so  many  years  ago, 
that  no  writing  could  remain  to  the  present  period.  Time 
has  entirely  destroyed  all  vestiges  of  the  writings  of  those 
days. 

1  presume  all  my  readers  are  aware,  thit  not  long  after 
the  time  of  our  Saviour,  the  barbarians  from  the  North,  in 
innumerable  hordes,  began  to  pour  down  upon  the  Roman 
empire,  imtil  at  last  they  subverted  and  destroyed  it.  Very 
many  of  these  barbarians  became  nomuial  Christians,  and 
preserved  some  copies  of  the  Bible,  and,  in  fact,  they  saved 
many  extensive  and  valuable  libraries  of  manuscripts,  in 
rolls,  (the  art  of  printing  not  being  then  known,)  but  they 
destroyed  most  of  the  institutions  and  the  accumulated  pro- 
perty of  civilized  life,  and  brought  a  long  ]ieriod  of  igno- 
rance and  somi-barbarism,  called  the  dark  ages,  upon  the 
world.  After  some  time,  however,  there  began  to  be,  in  va- 
rious parts  of  Europe,  a  gradual  improvement.  The  monks 
in  the  various  convents,  having  no  other  emi)loyment,  began 
to  explore  the  old  libraries  and  to  study  the  books.     They 


EVIDENCES  OF   CHRISTIANITY.  121 

Old  manuscripts.  Genuineness  of  the  Scriptures.  Quotations. 

made  themselves  acquainted  with  the  languages  in  which 
they  were  written,  and  when  the  art  of  printing  was  in- 
vented, they  published  them.  In  consequence,  however,  of 
the  immense  numbers  of  manuscripts  collected  in  some  of 
the  libraries,  a  long  time  elapsed  before  they  were  fully  ex- 
plored, and  even  now,  the  work  is  not  absolutely  completed. 
New  writings  are  occasionally  brought  to  light,  and  pub- 
lished. The  work  of  deciphering  such  old,  worn  out,  faded, 
and  almost  illegible  parchment  rolls  is  very  great. 

A  great  deal  of  interest  was  felt,  at  the  very  first,  by  these 
explorers,  to  find  the  oldest  copies  of  the  Bible,  or  of  any  parts 
of  the  Bible.  They  wished  to  have  the  most  accurate  and 
authentic  copy  possible,  and  the  more  ancient  the  copy,  the 
more  probable  it  was  that  it  was  taken  directly  from  the  origi- 
nal, and  consequently  the  more  it  w^as  to  be  depended  upon. 
If  they  could  have  found  a  manuscript,  which  was  evidently 
the  very  copy  originally  written  by  the  author  himself,  it 
would  have  been  considered  invaluable. 

The  number  of  manuscripts  of  the  whole,  or  of  parts  of 
the  Hebrew  Bible,  thus  found,  and  now  preserved  in  various 
libraries  of  Europe,  is  more  than  four  hundred,  and  of  the 
Greek  Testament,  not  far  from  one  hundred  and  fifty.  I'hey 
are  scattered  all  over  Europe,  and  are  preserved  in  the  libra- 
ries with  great  care.  The  oldest  of  them,  however,  was 
written  several  hundred  years  after  the  death  of  Christ,  so 
that  we  now  cannot  ever  have  the  actual  account  written 
by  the  original  witnesses.  The  two  methods  usually  relied 
on,  therefo.e,  in  courts  of  justice,  for  being  sure  that  the  ac- 
tual story  of  the  witness  himself  is  presented  in  court,  fail  in 
this  case.  We  must  resort,  therefore,  to  another  method, 
equally  certain,  but  a  little  different  in  form. 

The  evidence  relied  upon  to  prove  that  the  books  we  have 
now,  or  rather  the  ancient  manuscripts  in  the  libraries  in 
Europe  from  which  they  are  translated,  are  really  the  same 
with  the  aocounts  originally  written  by  the  witnesses  them- 
selves, is  this.  Immediately  after  they  were  written,  a  great 
many  other  Christian  writers,  very  much  interested  in  these 
accounts,  began  to  quote  them  in  their  own  letters  and  books. 
They  quoted  them  much  more  copiously  than  it  is  customa- 
ry to  quote  now,  because  the  art  of  printing  puts  every  im- 
portant book  within  the  reach  of  all  who  are  interested  in  it. 
Then,  the  original  accounts  were  only  in  manuscript,  and, 
consequent!}'-,  could  be  seen  and  read  only  by  a  few.  These 
11 


122  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Illuslrarion.  Use  made  of  Quotalions.  Paley's  evidences. 

few,  therefore,  in  their  writings,  made  frequent  and  copious 
extracts  from  them;  and  these  extracts  have  come  down 
to  us  separately,  and  each  one  proves  that  the  passage  it 
contains,  wliich  is  in  the  account  now,  was  in  that  account 
when  the  quotation  was  made. 

.  An  imaginary  instance  will  make  this  plain.  The  Vat- 
ican manuscript,  as  it  is  called,  that  is,  a  very  ancient  man- 
uscript, preserved  in  the  library  of  the  Vatican  at  Rome,  is 
supposed  to  have  been  written  about  four  hundred  years  after 
Christ.  It  contains,  we  will  suppose,  John's  Gospel,  just  as 
we  have  it  now,  in  our  Bibles.  I'his  proves,  that  if  the  real, 
original  account,  which  John  gave,  was  altered  at  all,  after 
he  wrote  it,  it  was  altered  before  that  time.  Now  suppose  a 
Christian  at  Antioch,  living  tuw  hundred  yczrs  before  the 
Vatica?i  manuscript  was  loriiten,  had  been  writing  a  book, 
and  in  it  had  mentioned  John's  Gospel,  and  had  copied  cut 
a  whole  chapter.  This  book  he  leaves  at  Antioch.  It  is 
copied  there  again  and  again,  and  some  copies  are  found 
there  at  the  revival  of  learning,  after  the  dark  ages.  Here 
we  have  one  chapter  proved  to  have  been  in  John's  account, 
two  hundred  years  earlier  than  the  date  of  the  Vatican 
manuscript.  In  the  same  manner,  another  chapter  might 
have  been  quoted  in  another  book,  kept  at  Alexandria, — 
another  at  Rome,  i&c.  And  the  fact  is,  that  these  quota- 
tions have  been  so  numerous,  that  they  have  formed  an  un- 
interrupted succession  of  evidences,  beginning  but  a  very 
short  time  after  the  original  accounts  were  written,  and 
coming  down  to  modern  times.  Every  chapter  and  verse  is 
not,  indeed,  confirmed  in  this  way,  but  every  thing  in  the 
least  degree  important  is.  All  the  material  facts,  and  everv 
particular  in  regard  to  which  there  could  be  an}'  necessit}'- 
for  this  evidence,  are  furnished  with  it.  Learned  men  have 
taken  a  great  deal  of  pains  to  explore  and  collect  this  mass 
of  evidence  in  favor  of  the  genuineness  of  the  sacred  books. 
These  quotations  have  been  most  carefully  examined  and 
republished,  so  that  all  who  are  inclined  to  go  into  an  ex- 
amination of  them  can  do  so.  Dr.  Palev,  in  his  Evidences 
of  Christi;inity,  has  presented  enough  to  satisfy  any  mind 
of  sufficient  attainments  to  appreciate  such  an  argument. 

I  say  of  sufficient  attainment,  for  it  requires  not  a  little^ 
There  arc  very  few,  excepting  professed  scholars,  who  can 
have  time  to  go  fully  enough  into  an  examination  of  this 
subject  to  form  an  independent  judgment.     I  have  not  at- 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  123 

Necessity  for  proving  the  genuineness  of  the  Scriptures. 

tempted  in  the  above  remarks  to  present  you  with  the  argu- 
ment itself,  but  only  to  explain  the  nature  of  it.  As  I  re- 
marked before,  I  do  not  think  the  historical  argument  is 
calculated  to  come  with  so  much  force  to  the  minds  of 
Christians  generally,  as  one  of  another  kind,  which  I  shall 
presently  exhibit.  All  ought,  however,  to  understand  its 
nature. 

We  may  consider,  then,  the  fact,  that  these  almost  innu- 
merable quotations  from  the  writers  of  the  New  Testament, 
and  translations  from  them,  forming  a  series  which  com- 
menced soon  after  the  writings  first  appeared,  and  continu- 
ing, in  uninterrupted  succession,  down  to  the  present  time, 
as  abundant  evidence  that  the  story  we  noiv  have,  is  the  sto- 
ry originally  given  by  the  witnesses  themselves.  This  evi- 
dence does  satisfy  all  who  fully  examine  it.  And  this  is 
the  first  point  in  the  investigation. 

But  the  question  will  arise  in  the  minds  of  many  of  my 
readers,  Why  is  it  necessary  to  prove  so  fully  and  formally 
such  a  point  as  this  1  Why  is  it  necessary  to  show  so  care- 
fully that  these  are  precisely,  in  all  important  respects,  the 
very  accounts  originally  written  by  the  witnesses  them- 
selves 7  The  answer  is  this.  Unless  this  point  were  very 
carefully  and  fully  proved,  we  might  have  supposed  that  the 
prevailing  belief  of  the  truth  of  the  Christian  miracles,  and 
the  general  circulation  of  our  present  books,  might  have 
arisen  in  this  way.  Suppose,  that  eighteen  hundred  years 
ago,  a  good  man,  named  Jesus  Christ,  had  been  dissatisfied 
with  the  prevailing  errors  and  superstitions,  and  had  taught 
a  purer  system  of  religious  and  moral  duty.  His  followers 
become  strongly  attached  to  him.  They  repeat  to  one  an- 
other his  instructions,  follow  him  from  place  to  place,  and 
soon  attract  the  attention  of  the  authorities  of  the  country. 
Like  Socrates,  he  is  persecuted  by  his  enemies,  and  put  to 
death.  After  his  death,  his  disciples  make  greater  and 
greater  efforts  to  promote  his  principles.  They  relate,  with 
some  exaggeration,  the  incidents  of  his  life.  His  benevo- 
lence and  kindness  to  the  sick  and  to  the  afflicted  is  gradu- 
ally, as  the  stories  are  repealed  again  and  again,  magnified 
to  the  exertion  of  miraculous  power.  One  extraordinary 
narrative  after  another  gradually  gains  credit  and  circula- 
tion. No  one  intends  to  deceive,  but,  according  to  the  uni- 
versal tendency  in  such  cases,  even  where  stories  that  strong- 
ly iuterast  the  feelings  are  circulated  among  good  men,  the 


124  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Tlie  original  records  remain.  The  second  point. 

accounts  gradually  and  insensibly  assume  a  marvellous  and 
miraculous  air,  and,  after  a  time,  when  years  have  elapsed^ 
and  no  method  of  ascertaming  the  truth  remams,  these  exag- 
gerated and  false  stories  are  committed  to  writmg,  and  these 
writings  come  down  to  us.  I'his  supposition  might  very 
plausibly  have  been  made.  But  the  evidence  afibrded  by  the 
series  of  quotations  I  have  above  described,  cuts  it  oft'  alto- 
gether. That  long  and  uninterrupted  series  carries  us  irre- 
siritibly  back  to  the  very  time  when  the  events  occurred. 
There  is  no  time  left  for  exaggeration  and  misrepresentation. 
We  prove  that  the  accounts  which  we  now  have  were  writ- 
ten on  the  spot, — that  they  were  in  circulation,  and  exposed 
to  rigid  scrutiny  at  the  very  time  in  which  the  events  them- 
selves took  'place, — and  we  are  thus  compelled  to  believe 
That  the  original  records,  made  at  the  time,  have  been  pre- 
served unaltered  to  the  present  day. 

"  But  does  this,"  you  wall  ask,  "  prove  that  the  accounts 
are  true  i"'  Most  certainly  not.  We  have  not  yet  attempt- 
ed to  prove  them  true.  We  have  not  yet  come  to  the  ex- 
amination of  the  evidence  itself,  at  all.  The  original  wit- 
nesses, if  we  admit  that  these  accounts  were  written  by 
them,  may  have  been  mistaken,  or  they  may  have  been  false 
witnesses.  We  have  said  nothing  yet  on  these  points.  The 
reader  must  bear  in  mind  what  is  the  precise  point  now  up. 
It  is  simply  to  show  that  the  accounts  we  have  now,  what- 
ever they  may  contain,  are  the  very  accounts  which  the  wit- 
nesses themselves  wrote.  The  depositions  are  properly  au- 
thenticated ;  not,  indeed,  by  the  common  legal  forms, — seal 
and  signature  and  witness, — but  by  abundant  evidence, — 
and  evidence  of  exactly  the  kind  which  is .  always  most  re- 
lied on,  and  entirely  rehed  on  in  all  other  cases  where  the 
examination  of  very  ancient  documents  comes  up.  This 
point  being  thus  settled,  we  are  now  prepared  to  examine 
the  evidence  itself,  in  reference  to  the  other  points  I  have 
mentioned.  As  it  is  very  desirable,  in  order  to  have  clear 
views  of  anj^  argument,  that  a  distinct  view  of  its  parts 
should  be  kept  in  mind,  the  reader  is  requested  to  look  back 
to  page  120,  for  an  enumeration  of  the  points  to  be  examin- 
ed, and  he  will  recollect  that  we  have  yet  discussed  only  the 
first,  and  proceed  now  to  the  second. 

2.  We  must  ascertain  that  the  writers  of  these  accounts 
had  distinct  opportunities  to  witness  what  they  describe. 

Now  in  regard  to  this,  their  own  testimony  is  to  be  taken. 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY,  125 

Opportunities  of  knowing.  The  housebreaker's  trial. 

It  is  common  to  ask  witnesses  on  the  stand,  in  a  court  of 
justice,  about  the  opportunities  they  had  of  knowing  certain- 
ly, or  the  possibihty  that  they  might  be  mistaken,  and  they 
give  their  own  account  of  the  situation  in  which  they  were 
placed.  This  account  is  admitted  and  believed,  like  all 
their  other  testimony,  unless  something  appears  which  shows 
that  the  witness  is  not  to  be  trusted,  and  then  all  his  state- 
ments are  abandoned  by  the  jury  together. 

I  noticed  in  the  trial  above  described,  that  the  counsel  for 
the  prisoner  was  particular  on  this  point.  He  asked  the 
witness,  after  he  had  told  all  the  story  about  his  detecting 
the  man  in  the  chamber,  as  follows : 

"But  are  you  sure  that  that,  (pointing  to  the  prisoner.) 
was  the  man '?" 

"  Yes,  perfectly  sure.  I  could  not  be  mistaken,  for  I  took 
him  at  once  to  the  watch  house." 

This  was  decisive,  it  proved  that  the  witness  had  a  most 
excellent  opportunity  to  know  what  he  described,  and  that 
there  was  no  possibility  of  mistake.  Suppose,  however,  that 
the  thief  had  been  active  enough  to  have  run  down  stairs 
and  escaped,  allowing  the  witness  only  a  glimpse  of  his 
person,  and  the  next  day,  the  witness  had  met  a  man  in  the 
street,  whom  he  supposed  was  the  same,  and  had  procured 
his  arrest  and  trial,  the  jury  would,  in  this  case,  have  placed 
far  less  confidence  in  his  testimony,  even  if  they  knew  that 
he  was  a  very  honest  man,  and  intended  to  tell  the  truth. 
The  difficulty  would  have  been  the  want  of  a  full  and  un- 
questionable opportunity  to  know  what  the  truth  was. 

In  the  same  manner,  if  there  is  any  thing  which  might 
operate  to  produce  delusion,  a  jury  would  receive  testimonj^ 
Avith  great  hesitation.  For  example,  suppose  a  witness 
should  testify  that  he  saw  some  supernatural  appearance  in 
going  through  a  dark  wood  by  night.  Few  would  believe 
him,  however  honest  a  man  he  might  be,  on  account  of  the 
great  danger  of  being  deceived  in  going  through  a  scene 
full  of  irregular  objects,  such  as  the  varieties  of  vegetation, 
the  broken  rocks, — the  whitened  trunks  of  decaying  trees, — 
and  going  through  too  at  night,  when  all  forms  are  vague 
and  indeterminate,  and  easily  modified  by  the  imagination 
or  the  fears.  Again,  an  honest  man,  one  in  whose  word  I 
place  great  confidence,  may  tell  me  of  a  cure  for  rheuma- 
tism. He  says  he  has  tried  it,  and  it  always  does  great 
STOod.  I  receive  his  testimony  with  great  doubt, — because 
*11 


126  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Sacred  writers  could  not  have  been  mislakeD. 

he  cannot,  probably,  with  the  httle  experience  he  has,  know 
how  much  the  benefit  he  experienced  was  owing  to  the  sup- 
posed remedy,  and  how  mucli  to  other  causes.  If  the  same 
man  should  come  home  from  Boston,  and  say  that  the  State 
House  was  burnt, — that  he  saw  it  all  in  flames,  or  any  other 
extraordinary  fact ; — far  more  extraordniary  than  the  eflica- 
cy  of  a  remedy  for  rheumatism,  I  should  believe  him,  if  it 
was  only  a  case  where  he  had  distmct  and  unquestionable 
opportunity  to  observe,  and  where  no  room  was  left  for  mis- 
take or  delusion. 

Now  if  we  examine  the  miracles  which  our  Saviour  per- 
formed, and  the  opportunity  which  the  disciples  had  of  wit- 
nessing them,  we  shall  see  that  there  could  not  have  been 
a  mistake.  Remember,  however,  that  I  am  not  now  saying 
that  their  story  must  be  true.  I  am  only  here  showing  that 
they  could  not  have  been  mistaken.  They  must  have  known 
whether  what  they  were  saying  teas  true  or  not.  The  case 
could  not  be  like  that  of  a  man  telling  a  ghost  story, — some- 
thing which  he  thinks  is  true,  but  which  is,  in  reality,  not 
so.  The  things  done,  were  done  in  open  day.  They  were 
done  in  presence  of  multitudes ;  and  they  were  of  such  a 
nature,  that  those  who  witnessed  them  could  not  be  deceiv- 
ed. Healing  what  are  called  incurable  diseases;  feeding 
multitudes  with  a  small  supply  of  food;  walking  on  the 
sea ;  rising  from  the  grave,  after  remaining  upon  the  cross 
till  Roman  soldiers  were  satisfied  that  life  was  gone.  Who 
could  be  a  better  judge  of  death  than  a  Roman  soldier  ? 
These  and  a  multitude  of  other  similar  things,  might  be 
given  as  proofs  that  these  witnesses  could  not  be  mistaken 
in  what  they  described.  They  knew  whether  they  icere  true 
or  not.  And,  consequently,  if  the  third  point,  that  is,  their 
honesty  should  be  proved,  we  must  believe  what  they  say. 
If  they  had  informed  us  only  of  a  few  miraculous  events, 
and  those  seen  by  a  few  people, — or  of  such  a  character  as 
to  render  the  witnesses  peculiarly  liable  to  be  deceived,  we 
might  have  admitted  their  honesty,  but  denied  the  truth  of 
their  statements.     As  it  is,  however,  we  cannot  do  this. 

Not  only  were  the  facts  themselves  of  so  open  and  public 
a  character  that  there  could  not  be  any  mistake  about  them, 
but  the  writers  of  our  accounts  were  eye-witnesses  of  them. 
They  did  not  obtain  a  knowledge  of  them  by  hear-say  or 
report.  They  wrote  v/hat  they  themselves  saw  aiid  heard. 
It  is  noticeable  that  they  themselves  placed  peculiar  stress 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  127 

They  were  eye  witnesses.  Third  point. 

upon  this  circumstance.  Luke  begins  his  Gospel  bj  saying, 
"  It  seemed  good  to  me,  having  had  perfect  understanding 
of  all  things  from  the  first,  to  write  unto  thee."  John,  at 
the  close  of  his  book,  distnictly  records  the  fact,  that  the 
writer  of  the  account  was  one  of  the  jprinci'pal  actors  in  the 
scenes  he  describes ; — Peter,  in  his  defence  of  himself  before 
the  Jewish  authorities,  says  he  cannot  but  speak  the  things 
he  has  seen  and  heard  ; — and  perhaps  the  most  striking  of 
all  is,  that  when  the  apostles  came  together  to  elect  one  to 
take  the  place  of  Judas,  they  restricted  themselves  in  their 
selection,  to  those  who  had  been,  from  the  beg'uuiing,  wit- 
nesses of  the  whole.  "  Wherefore,"  was  the  proposition,  "  of 
these  men  which  have  companied  w4th  us  all  the  time  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  out  among  us,  beginning  from  the 
baptism  of  John  unto  that  same  day  that  he  was  taken  up 
from  us,  must  one  be  ordained  to  be  a  witness  with  us  of  his 
resurrection."  These  men  understood  the  laws  of  the  hu- 
man mind  in  regard  to  believing  testimony.  They  knew 
well  what  was  necessary  to  make  out  a  case — and  they  se- 
cured it. 

We  have  now  explained  how  the  two  first  points  in  our 
chain  of  reasoning  are  established,  and  we  may  consider  it 
as  certain,  in  the  first  place,  that,  though  our  witnesses  are 
not  living,  and,  consequently,  cannot  present  us  their  testi- 
mony m  person,  and  although  so  long  a  time  has  elapsed, 
that  their  original  writings  are  worn  out  and  destroyed,  yet 
that  we  have  abundant  evidence  that  we  have  the  real  ac- 
count which  they  delivered :  and,  in  the  second  place,  that 
they  could  not  be  mistaken  in  the  facts  to  which  they  give 
their  testimony,  as  they  were  eye-witnesses  of  them,  and  the 
facts  are  of  such  a  nature,  that  there  could  be  no  delusion. 
There  is  no  possible  way  now,  after  these  two  points  are  es- 
tablished, by  which  their  testimony  can  be  set  aside,  except 
by  the  supposition  that  they  were  impostors.  This  brings 
us  to  our  third  and  last  point  mentioned  on  page  120. 

3.  We  must  have  evidence  that  our  witnesses  are  credi- 
ble ;  i.  e.  that  they  are  honest  men,  and  that  their  word  can 
be  relied  upon. 

The  evidence  on  this  point  is,  if  possible,  more  complete 
and  more  absolutely  unquestionable  than  upon  either  of  the 
others.  The  honest  and  candid  manner  in  which  they  re- 
late their  story  is  evidence.  It  is  plain, — straight  forward, 
and  simple.     Their  writings  have  exactly  the  air  and  tone 


128  Young  christian 


Their  style  of  writing.  Impartialitv« 

of  men  conscious  that  thej  are  telling  the  truth,  but  aware 
that  it  will  be  regarded  with  very  different  feelings  by  their 
readers.  They  narrate,  frankly  and  fnily,  the  events  in 
which  they  or  their  companions  were  to  blame, — and  they 
do  nothing  more  m  regaril  to  the  guilt  of  their  enemies. 
There  are  no  palliating  or  extenuating  statements  or  ex- 
pressions on  the  one  side,  nor  any  disposition  to  apply  epi- 
thets of  odium  or  exaggeration  upon  the  other.  I'he  story 
is  simply  told,  and  left  to  work  its  own  way. 

How  differently  do  men  act  in  other  cases.  How  easily 
can  you  tell  upon  which  side  the  writer  is,  when  he  gives 
an  account  of  circumstances  relating  to  a  contest  between 
two  individuals  or  two  parties !  Open  to  any  history  of  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo,  or  of  the  Campaign  in  Russia,  and  how 
long  can  you  doubt  whether  the  author  is  a  friend  or  an  ene- 
my of  Napoleon?  Now  turn  to  St.  John's  account  of  the 
trial  and  crucifixion  of  the  Saviour,  a  most  unparalleled 
scene  of  cruel  suffering,  and  there  is  not  a  harsh  epithet,  and 
scarcely  an  expression  of  displeasure,  on  the  part  of  the 
writer,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end  of  it.  You  would 
scarcely  know  what  was  the  writer's  opinion.  Take,  for 
instance,  the  account  of  the  choice  of  Barabbas  by  the  Jews. 
Another  writer  would  have  said,  "  The  Jews  were  so  bent 
on  the  destruction  of  their  innocent  and  helpless  victim,  that 
when  Pilate  proposed  to  release  him,  in  accordance  with 
their  custom  of  having  a  prisoner  annually  set  at  liberty,  on 
the  day  of  their  great  festival,  they  chose  a  base  malefactor 
in  his  stead.  They  preferred  that  a  robber,  justly  condemn- 
ed for  his  crimes,  should  be  let  loose  upon  society,  rather 
than  that  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus  should  again  go  forth 
to  do  good  to  all."  But  what  does  John  sa}^?  There  is  no 
attempt,  in  his  account,  to  make  a  display  of  the  guilt  of  the 
Jews.  No  effort  to  throw  odium  upon  them.  No  exagge- 
ration,— no  coloring.  "  Will  ye,"  saj^s  Pilate,  that  I  release 
unto  3^ou  the  king  of  the  Jews  ?  Then  cried  they  all  again, 
saying.  Not  this  man,  but  Barabbas.  Now  Barabbas  was 
a  robber." 

In  the  same  spirit  is  the  whole  account, — not  only  the 
narrative  of  this  writer,  but  all  the  writers  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment. It  breathes  a  spirit  of  calm,  com])osed  dignity,  which 
scarcely  an}'  thing  can  equal.  In  the  midst  of  one  of  the 
greatest  moral  excitements  which  the  world  has  ever  seen,  and 
writing  upon  the  ver}^  subject  of  that  excitement,  and  them- 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  129 

Etevated  views.  They  were  disinierested. 

selves  the  very  objects  of  it,  they  exhibit  a  self-possession 
and  a  composure  almost  without  a  parallel.  Exposed  to 
most  extraordniary  persecution,  and  consequent  suffering, 
they  never  revile  or  retort  upon  their  oppressors.  It  is  im- 
possible to  avoid  the  conclusion,  when  reading  the  chapters 
of  the  New  Testament,  that  the  writers  understood  and  felt 
the  moral  sublimity  of  the  position  they  were  occupying. 
They  seem  to  have  considered  the  little  community  in  which 
they  were  then  placed,  and  whose  members  did  indeed,  for 
that  time,  have  control  over  their  persons  and  their  lives, — 
as,  in  reality,  nothing  to  them.  They  felt  that  they  were 
speaking,  not  to  a  few  thousand  contemporaries  m  Judea, 
but  to  a  thousand  millions  of  human  beings,  scattered  over 
the  earth,  and  coming,  generation  after  generation,  to  read 
their  story, — down  to  the  end  of  time.  They  rise  most  ef- 
fectually above  all  the  influences  then  pressing  so  strongly 
upon  them,  and,  in  calm  and  fearless  independence,  offer 
their  testimony.  They  could  not  have  done  this, — it  is  not 
in  human  nature  to  have  done  it — had  they  not  been  sus- 
tained by  this  consideration,  viz.  They  knew  that  they  were 
telling  THE  TRUTH  on  the  most  momentous  subject  ever  pre- 
sented  to  men,  and  that  they  were  telling  it  to  the 
WHOLE   World 

Another  proof  of  their  honesty  is,  that  they  were  entirely 
disinterested  ;  or  rather,  they  were  interested  to  conceal  the 
truth,  not  to  tell  it.  Their  testimony  brought  them  nothing, 
and  could  bring  them  nothing,  but  reproach,  and  suffering, 
and  death.  They  saw  this  in  the  history  of  the  Saviour, 
and,  instead  of  endeavoring  to  keep  them  unconscious  of  the 
suflferings  that  awaited  them,  he  plainl}^  and  frankly  foretold 
all,  just  before  he  left  them.  He  told  them  in  the  most  af- 
fecting manner, — the  communication  he  made  is  recorded  in 
the  fifteenth  and  sixteenth  chapters  of  the  Gospel  according 
to  St.  John, — all  that  should  befal  them.  "  You  must  not  ex- 
pect," said  he,  in  substance,  "  to  find  the  world  more  kind  to 
you  than  it  has  been  to  me.  They  have  persecuted  me,  and 
they  will  persecute  you.  They  will  put  you  out  of  the  syn- 
agogues, and  whosoever  killeth  you,  will  think  he  doeth 
God  service.  I  tell  you  these  things  beforehand,  so  that 
when  the  time  shall  come,  you  will  remember  that  I  told 
you,  and  be  comforted  then.  I  wish  you  to  understand  the 
dangers  and  trials  that  await  you.  You  must  not,  however, 
be  dejected  or  discouraged,  because  1  have  told  you  these 


[30  lOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Our  Saviour's  farewell  address.  Interested  witnesses. 

things.  It  is  necessary  for  me  to  go  away,  and  it  is  neces- 
sary for  you  to  encounter  these  evils.  But  it  is  only  for  a 
little  time.  The  years  will  pass  away  swiftly,  and,  when 
3'ou  have  done  your  duty  here,  you  shall  come  to  me  again, 
and  find  a  perpetual  home  with  me  and  my  father  in  a  hap- 
pier world." 

Such  was  the  substance  of  this  part  of  cur  Saviour's  fare- 
well address.  His  disciples  listened  to  it  in  sadness,  but  they 
did  not  shrink  from  their  duty.  A  very  few  hours  after 
hearing  these  last  words  of  their  master,  in  their  place  of  re- 
tirement,— they  found  themselves  gazing  in  terror,  and  at  a 
distance,  at  that  dreadful  throng  which  was  pouring  out  of 
the  gates  of  Jerusalem,  to  see  their  beloved  master  struggling 
upon  the  cross.  They  were  overwhelmed  bv  this  scene  :  but 
terror  triumphed  only  for  a  time.  Immediately  after  the 
Saviour's  ascension,  we  find  them  assembled,  making  calm- 
ly, but  with  fixed  determination,  their  arrangements  for  fu- 
ture efforts,  and  waiting  from  the  command  from  above. 
One  hundi'ed  and  twenty,  in  an  upper  chamber,  planning  a 
campaign  against  the  world  !  They  knew,  they  must  have 
known,  that  they  themselves  went  forward  to  suffering  and 
to  death.  Thej^  went  forward,  however.  They  told  their 
story.  They  suffered  and  died.  And  must  not  these  have 
been  holiest  men  ? 

The  way  in  which  men  are  interested  is  always  to  bo 
looked  at,  in  judging  of  their  testimony.  If  a  juryman  is 
interested  in  the  result  of  a  trial,  he  is  set  aside..  He  cannot 
judge  impartiall3^  If  a  witness  is  interested  at  all,  his  testi- 
mony  is  received  with  a  great  deal  of  caution,  or  else  abso- 
lutely rejected.  And,  whenever  a  case  is  of  such  a  nature, 
that  all  those  who  were  witnesses  of  the  facts  are  interested 
on  one  side  or  on  the  other,  it  is  extremely  difficult  t-o 
ascertain  the  truth.  A  very  striking  example  of  this  is 
furnished  by  the  circumstances  of  the  battle  of  Lexington  at 
the  commencement  of  the  American  Revolution.  Each  of 
the  parties,  anticipating  a  struggle,  and  desirous  of  being 
prepared  for  it,  had  made  efforts  to  get  as  much  of  the  arms 
and  ammunition  of  the  country  as  possible  into  its  own 
hands,  and  the  British  general  in  Boston,  understanding  that 
there  was  at  Concord  a  supply  of  military  stores,  conceived 
che  design  of  sending  a  party  in  the  night  to  Concord  to  ob- 
tain  it.  He  kept  his  design,  or  rather  tried  to  keep  it,  secret. 
Late  in  the  evening,  the  troops  embarked  in  boats  on  tho 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  ISI 


Battle  of  Lexing-lon.  Parliament  and  Congress. 

west  side  of  the  peninsula  on  which  Boston  is  buih,   and 
sailed  across  the  cove,  to  the  main  land. 

This  was  done  in  silence,  and,  it  was  hoped,  in  secrecy. 
The  Americans,  however,  in  some  way,  heard  of  the  plan. 
The  country  was  alarmed.  Men  rode  on  horseback  at  mid- 
night from  town  to  town,  ringing  the  bells  and  calling  out 
the  mhabitants,  and,  by  three  o'clock  in  the  morning,  a 
number  of  troops  were  collected  at  Lexington,  to  oppose  the 
progress  of  the  British  detachment. 

Now,  neither  party  wished  to  begm  the  contest.  Like 
two  boys,  eager  for  a  quarrel,  each  wished  to  throw  the  odi- 
um of  striking  the  first  blow  upon  the  other.  This  difficulty 
is,  however,  usually,  soon  surmounted,  and  in  this  case,  the 
musketry  was  soon  speaking  distinctly  on  both  sides.  After 
a  momentary  conflict,  the  Americans  were  dispersed,  and 
the  British  moved  on  to  the  place  of  their  destination. 

Now,  after  all  this  was  over,  there  arose  the  question, — 
not,  in  itself,  very  important,  one  would  think, — but  yet 
made  so  by  those  concerned  at  the  time,  "  Who  began  this 
affray?  Who  fired  first ?^  To  determine  this  point,  the 
American  Congress  are  said  to  have  instituted  a  formal  in- 
quiry. They  examined  witnesses  who  were  on  the  spot, 
and  saw  the  whole,  and  they  found  abundant  and  satisfac- 
tory evidence,  that  the  British  soldiers  fired  first,  and  that 
the  Americans  did  not  discharge  their  pieces  until  they  were 
compelled  to  do  it  in  self  defence.  The  British  Parliament 
entered  into  a  similar  inquiry,  and  they  came  to  an  equally 
satisfactory  conclusion, — only  it  happened  to  be  exactly  the 
reverse  of  the  other.  They  examined  witnesses,  who  were 
on  the  spot,  and  saw  the  whole,  and  they  found  abundant 
evidence  that  the  American  soldiers  fired  first,  and  that  the 
British  did  not  discharge  their  pieces  until  they  were  com- 
pelled to  do  it  in  self-defence.  Now,  the  reason  for  this  dis- 
agreement unquestionably  was,  that  each  nation  examined 
only  its  own  soldiers,  and  the  soldiers  on  both  sides  were  in- 
terested. Suppose,  now,  that  there  had  been  in  the  Ameri- 
can army  a  considerable  number  who  admitted  that  the  first 
guns  were  fired  from  their  own  ranks ; — suppose  that,  in 
consequence  of  this  their  testimony,  they  brought  upon  them- 
selves the  dislike  of  the  whole  army,  and,  to  a  great  extent, 
of  the  nation  at  large ; — how  strong  would  have  been  the 
reliance  placed  upon  such  testimony.  "  There  cannot  be  a 
doubt,"   the  British  would  have  said,  "  that  you  fired  upon 


132  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Points  proved.  Argument  from  prophecy. 

US  first, — half  of  your  own  troops  say  so."  This  would  have 
been  a  very  fair  uiference.  When  men  bear  testimony  con- 
trary to  their  own  interests  or  feelings,  they  are  generally 
believed. 

We  have  thus  abundant  evidence,  that  the  original  propa- 
gators of  the  Gospel  were  honest  men,  and  this  completes 
the  three  positions  necessary  to  prove  that  the  Christian 
miracles  were  actually  performed. 

1.  We  are  sure  that  the  witnesses  are  honest  men. 

2.  The  facts  are  of  such  a  nature,  that  the  witnesses  could 
not  have  been  deceived  in  them. 

3.  It  is  proved  that  we  have  exactly  the  account  which 
they  themselves  gave. 

The  miracles  being  once  proved,  the  divine  authority  of 
the  religion  is  proved,  for  no  man  can  imagine  that  the  Deity 
would  exert  his  power  in  producing  miraculous  effects  to 
give  authority  to  a  message  which  he  did  not  send. 

There  is  one  other  independent  head  of  the  external  evi- 
dences of  Christianity.  It  is  the  argument  from  prophecy. 
They  who  brought  the  communication  which  is  offered  to 
us  as  a  message  from  heaven,  said  that  they  were  endued 
with  the  power,  not  only  of  working  miracles,  but  of  fore- 
telling future  events.  In  some  cases,  human  sagacity  can 
foresee  what  is  future,  and  even  distant.  They,  however, 
professed  to  exercise  this  power  in  cases  to  which  no 
human  skill  or  foresight  could  have  extended.  Such  a 
power  as  this  is  evidently  miraculous,  and  they  who  possess- 
ed it,  must  have  received  it  from  the  Creator. 

One  or  two  examples  will  clearly  illustrate  the  nature  of 
this  argument.  A  great  number  of  the  prophets  who  ap- 
peared m  the  early  years  of  the  sacred  history,  foretold  the 
coming  of  a  Saviour.  Precisely  what  sort  of  a  Saviour  he 
was  to  be,  was  not  distinctly  foretold, — at  least,  not  so  dis- 
tinctly as  to  remove  all  mis-conceptions  on  the  subject.  So 
certain  is  it,  however,  that  such  prophecies  were  uttered,  and 
generally  published,  that  there  prevailed  throughout  the 
Jewish  nation,  and  even  to  some  extent,  in  neighboring 
countries,  a  general  expectation,  that  an  extraordinary  per- 
sonage was  to  appear.  We  have  evidence  enough  of  this, 
not  merely  from  the  Scriptures  themselves,  but  from  a  mul- 
titude of  other  writings,  which  appeared  at  that  time,  and 
which  have  come  down  to  us  by  separate  and  independent 
channels.     There  can  be  no  question,  in  the  mind  of  any 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  133 

Prophecies.  False  prophecies.  Subject  difficult. 

one,  who  will  examine  the  subject,  that  the  coming  of  Christ 
was  predicted  with  so  much  distinctness,  as  to  produce  an 
almost  universal  expectation  of  the  appearance  of  some  very 
extraordinary  personage.  And  the  event  corresponded  with 
the  prediction.  A  most  extraordinary  personage  appeared. 
The  most  extraordinary,  as  all  will  acknowledge, — Chris- 
tians and  infidels, — that  ever  appeared  upon  the  earth. 

Our  Saviour's  prediction  of  the  destruction  of  Jerusalem  is 
another  example.  The  scene  was  described  with  astonish- 
ing minuteness  and  accuracy,  sixty  or  seventy  years  before 
it  took  place ; — and  there  was,  at  the  time  of  the  prediction, 
no  reason  whatever,  so  far  as  human  foresight  could  extend, 
to  expect  SLich  a  catastrophe. 

Now,  to  examine  fully  this  species  of  argument,  several 
points  ought  to  receive  special  attention.  First,  we  must 
ascertain  that  the  prophecy  was  really  anterior  to  the  event 
which  is  alleged  to  have  occurred  in  fulfilment  of  it.  This 
now,  in  regard  to  writings  and  facts  so  ancient  as  those  of 
the  Scriptures,  is  a  peculiarly  difficult  task.  Secondly,  that 
the  event  is  such  an  one  as  human  foresight  could  not  have 
foreseen.  Thirdly,  that  there  were  not,  in  similar  writings, 
a  multitude  of  other  prophecies  lohich  failed,  and  that  those 
only  have  been  preserved,  which  have  apparently  succeeded. 
Among  the  ignorant. and  vulgar,  nothing  is  more  common 
than  a  belief  in  the  powers  of  fortune-tellers,  or  of  the  pro- 
phetic meaning  of  signs  and  dreams.  The  reason  why  this 
imposture  retains  its  ascendanc}^  is,  that  the  feio  successful 
cases  are  remembered,  and  talked  about,  and  the  cases  of 
failure  are  neglected  and  forgotten.  If  a  person  predicts  at 
random  in  regard  to  common  events,  he  must  sometimes  be 
successful,  and,  if  his  votaries  will  forget  the  unsuccessful 
attempts,  he  may  soon  have  the  reputation  of  a  conjurer. 
Now,  we  must  ascertain  that  the  prophecies  of  the  Bible  are 
not  of  this  character,  i.  e.  a  few  lucky  predictions,  among  a 
multitude  which  failed.  Fourthly,  we  must  ascertain  that 
the  events  themselves  were  not  under  the  control  of  men,  in 
such  a  way,  as  to  enable  those  who  were  interested  in  the 
success  of  the  prophecy,  to  bring  about  the  corresponding 
result. 

Now,  to  examine  thoroughly  all  these  points,  so  as  really 
to  form  an  independent  judgment  upon  them,  and  to  take 
nothing  upon  trust,  requires,  in  some  instances,  no  little  ma- 
turity of  mind,  and,  in  others,  no  little  scholarship  and  labo- 
12 


134  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Were  the  Christian  witnesses  believed  ?  Contest  with  Paganism. 

rious  research.  The  young  must,  tUmost  enlirelj-,  take  this 
argument  upon  trust.  I  can  only  explain  its  nature,  and 
thus  prepare  you  to  read  more  understandingly  other  works 
on  this  subject, — and  say  that  those  who  have  gone  into  it 
most  thoroughly,  as  is  the  case  with  all  the  historical  evi- 
dences of  Christianity,  have  been  most  convinced  of  the 
firmness  of  the  ground.  The  most  profound  scholars  in  all 
Christian  nations,  have  been  the  most  decided  ni  their  belief 
of  the  Christian  religion. 

This  completes  the  view  which  I  intended  to  give  of  the 
historical  argument.  It  would  require  a  volume,  to  present 
the  argument  itself  in  all  its  detail.  My  design  has  been  to 
give  my  readers  a  clear  idea  of  the  nature  of  this  kind  of 
reasoning,  not  to  make  them  minutely  acquainted  with  all 
the  facts  upon  which  the  various  pillars  of  the  argument 
are  founded.  And  here  I  might  rest  this  part  of  my  subject, 
were  it  not  that  there  is  one  consideration  which  corroborates 
very  much  the  conclusion  to  which  we  have  come.  The 
question  very  naturally  arises  in  our  minds,  "  Was  this  story 
believed  at  the  time  '^  It  seems  to  be  a  plain  case,  that  the 
disciples  of  Christ  made  out  very  decisive  evidence  of  their 
divine  commission,  but  the  people  who  lived  at  that  time, 
and  upon  the  spot,  had  a  much  better  opportunity  of  judging 
in  this  case  than  we  have. — Now,  did  they  believe  this  ac- 
count ?" 

This  is  a  fair  question.  It  is  always  asked,  in  similar 
cases.  A  merchant  will  ask,  "  Is  the  report  believed  which 
was  circulated  on  'Change  to-day?"  "Wash  generally 
believed  in  London,  that  such  or  such  an  event  would  take 
place  ?"  And  this  belief  or  disbelief  on  the  part  of  those 
who  have  the  best  opportunities  of  knowing,  is  sometimes 
regarded  as  the  strongest  evidence  which  can  be  procured. 
It  is  right,  therefore,  to  ask  whether  the  extraordinary  story 
of  the  Christians  was  believed  by  those  who  were  upon  the 
spot,  to  discover  error  or  imposture,  if  any  was  to  be  found. 

The  answer  is,  it  was  believed.  The  story  spread  with  a 
rapidity  to  which  no  other  revolution  in  the  public  mind  can 
afford  a  parallel.  When  the  hundred  and  twenty  assem- 
bled in  their  upper  room,  paganism  was  enjoying  undisturb- 
ed and  unquestioned  possession  of  the  whole  Roman  empire. 
Paganism  reigned  in  every  crowded  city  and  m  every  dis- 
tant province.  Her  temples  crowned  a  thousand  summits, 
and  the  multitude,  whose  interests  were  identified  with  the 


KVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  135 

Power  of  truth.  II.    Internal  Evidence.  Unity  of  the  Scriptures. 


support  of  her  rights,  might,  at  any  time,  arai  themselves 
with  all  the  power  of  the  Caesars  to  resist  the  encroachments 
of  truth.  A  hundred  and  twenty,  with  the  story  of  a  cruci- 
fied Galilean  rising-  from  the  dead,  came  forth  to  attack  this 
mighty  fabric.  And  they  prevailed.  Opprobrium  and  ridi- 
cule,— gentle  persuasion, — and  stern  menaces  ; — imprison- 
ment, fire  and  sword ; — torture  and  death,  tried  all  their 
power.  And  with  what  did  the  fearless  assailants  in  this 
most  unequal  war,  attempt  to  contend  against  such  an  array 
as  this.  Why,  simply  with  their  own  repeated  declaration, 
Jesus  Christ  did  rise  from  the  grace  ;  and  you  ought  to  re- 
pent of  your  sins  and  believe  on  him.  And  they  conquered. 
*'  The  truth  is  great,  and  it  will  prevail,"  said  a  Roman 
writer.  He  could  not  have  found  an  example  like  this.  The 
simple  declaration  of  a  sufficient  number  of  competent  wit- 
nesses, after  a  most  energetic  struggle,  prevails  over  one  of 
the  greatest  civil  and  military  powers  which  the  world  has 
€ver  seen.  Yes :  the  story  was  believed.  It  spread  with  unex- 
ampled rapidity, — and  revolutionized  the  empire. 

But  we  must  pass  to  the  second  species  of  evidence  we 
have  enumerated. 

II.    INTERNAL    EVIDENCE. 

I  come  now  to  consider  what  is  commonly  called  the  Iri- 
lernal  Evidence  that  the  Bible  is  a  message  from  Heaven. 
This  evidence  consists  of  an  examination  of  the  contents  of 
the  book,  to  see  whether  the  truths  and  declarations  it  con- 
tains, are  such  as  we  may  suppose  would  really  come  from 
our  Maker.  We  ought  to  enter  upon  such  fin  examination 
as  this,  however,  with  great  caution,  for,  if  the  book  is  really 
a  message  from  Heaven,  we  are  to  receive  it,  whatever  it  may 
contain.  It  is  not  for  us  to  decide  what  our  Maker  ought, 
and  what  he  ought  not,  to  communicate  to  us.  It  is  interest- 
mg,  however,  to  examine  the  contents  of  the  scriptures,  to 
see  the  indications  with  which  the  volume  is  filled,  that  it  is 
from  another  world.  Some  of  these  indications  I  shall  men- 
tion. 

1.  The  remarkable  simplicity  of  its  whole  design.  It 
seems  to  have  one  simple  and  single  object,  from  the  begin- 
ning to  the  end,  and  this  is  very  remarkable,  if  we  consider 
how  many  distinct  authors  it  has,  and  in  how  distant  periods 
it  v-as  written.     The  Bible  is  not  a  book  but  a  library.     It 


136  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  Bible  a  number  of  books.  Its  single  object. 

consists  of  a  large  number  of  books  entirely  separate  and 
distinct,  bound  up  together.  The  times  at  which  the  various 
parts  were  written,  are  scattered  over  a  period  of  fifteen  hun- 
dred years.  The  authors  are  most  numerous.  It  would  be 
a  very  interesting  exercise  for  young  persons  to  attempt  to 
make  out  an  accurate  list  of  them.  They  are  of  every  variety 
of  character  and  standing,  learned  and  unlearned — rich  and 
poor — kings,  poets,  generals.  There  is  every  variety  in  the 
character  of  the  authors  and  of  the  style  ;  and  yet  one  single, 
simple  design  is  kept  in  view,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end, 
with  a  steadiness  which  is  astonishing.  But  what  is  that 
object.      It  may  be  stated  thus : 

The  Bible  is  a  history  of  the  redemption  of  this  race  by 
Jesus  Christ,  and  it  is  nothing  more.  From  the  beginning 
to  the  end  of  it,  with  a  very  few  if  any,  exceptions,  it  is 
nothing  but  that.  Open  at  Genesis  and  follow  on,  chapter 
after  chapter,  and  book  after  book,  until  you  come  to  the  final 
benediction  in  the  last  chapter  of  Revelation,  it  all  bears  upon 
this.  Now,  if  this  book  was  planned  by  the  Supreme,  and 
if  he  superintended  its  execution,  during  the  fifteen  centuries 
while  it  was  in  progress,  all  this  is  easily  accounted  for. 
Nothing  else  can  account  for  it. 

But  I  must  show  more  fully  that  this  is  the  single  and 
simple  aim  of  the  scriptures.  Let  us  briefly  review  its  con- 
tents. It  begins  by  explaining  simpl}^  and  clearly  the  crea- 
tion of  the  world,  and  God's  design  in  creating  it.  His  in- 
tention was  to  have  had  a  happy  community  to  tenant  it,  who 
should  be  united  in  each  other,  and  united  to  him ;  forming 
one  family  of  undivided  hearts  and  aims,  all  interested  in  the 
common  welfare,  and  all  looking  to  him  as  to  the  common 
bond  of  union,  and  the  common  source  of  happiness.  "Thou 
Bhalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with  all  thy  heart,  and  thy 
neighbor  as  thyself,"  was  unquestionably  the  law  originally 
Vv'rilten  on  the  human  heart. 

Men  sinned,  however, — they  broke  God's  law,  and  the 
Bible  then  describes  the  consequences  of  sin,  in  bringing  suf- 
fering upon  the  human  family.  The  earth  was  filled  with 
violence.  One  dreadful  experiment  was  tried,  by  the  flood, 
of  the  power  of  punishment — ^retribution — to  bring  men  back 
to  duty,  but  they  who  escaped  the  flood,  escaped  only  to  go 
on  in  sin. 

It  is  noticeable  that  in  one  of  the  very  first  chapters  of  the 
Pible,  the  coming  of  the  Saviour  is  foretold,  and  from  that 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  137 

The  Bible  a  history  of  Christ.  Sacrifices. 

time,  the  sacred  history  marks  out  and  follows  with  minute 
accuracy,  the  line  of  succession  which  is  to  conduct  us  to 
that  Saviour.  There  were  a  vast  many  nations  on  the  earth, 
or  existing  in  embryo,  at  the  time  when  the  Israelites  were  in 
Egypt,  whose  history  is  far  more  important,  in  every  respect 
but  one,  that  was  the  history  of  the  Jews.  There  were  the 
Egyptians,  the  Assyrians,  and  the  Persians.  The  sacred 
history  neglects  them  all,  and  turns  its  whole  attention  to  a 
body  of  Egyptian  slaves — and  why  1  Why,  it  was  because 
among  these  slaves,  there  was  the  ancestor  of  the  coming- 
Messiah. 

The  Bible  represents  Jehovah  as  conducting  this  nation, 
by  his  own  hand,  to  a  country  which  was  to  be  their  home, 
in  order  that  he  might  preserve  them  separate  from  the  rest 
of  mankind,  and  make  them  the  keepers  of  his  communica- 
tions with  men.  A  great  deal  of  the  Old  Testament  history 
is  occupied  in  giving  us  an  account  of  the  particular  institu- 
tions established  among  this  people,  and  of  the  circumstan- 
ces of  their  own  private  history.  In  regard  to  their  institu- 
tions, there  seem  to  have  been  two  distinct  objects.  One  was 
to  preserve  them  separate  from  the  idolatrous  nations  around, 
in  order  that  the  worship  of  the  true  God  might  be  the  better 
preserved.  The  other  object,  perhaps  more  important,  was 
effected  by  the  institution  of  sacrifices,  of  this  I  shall  pres- 
ently speak  more  fully.  This  Jewish  nation,  however,  in  its 
institutions  and  history,  is  followed  by  the  sacred  writers, 
who  keep  all  the  time  as  close  as  possible  to  the  line  of  suc- 
cession which  is  conducting  to  Jesus  Christ.  The  coming 
Saviour  is  often  alluded  to,  especially  whenever  any  great 
crisis  occuring  in  their  history,  furnishes  an  occasion,  upon 
which  God  makes  to  some  leading  individual,  a  distinct  com- 
munication in  regard  to  his  plans. 

It  is  remarkable,  how  large  a  number  of  the  individuals, 
whose  lives  are  given  in  the  Old  Testament,  were  the  ances- 
tors of  Christ,  and  how  steadily  there  is  kept  in  view  the  future 
coming  of  the  son  of  God. 

I, have  mentioned  sacrifices.  The  design  of  Jehovah  in 
establishing  these  rites  so  early,  and  taking  such  effectual 
precautions  to  secure  their  observance,  seems  to  have  been 
this:  To  familiarise  the  minds  of  men  to  the  idea,  that 
there  must  be  something  more  than  penitence,  to  atone  for  sin. 
We  are  all  much  more  ready  to  admit  this  in  reference  to  any 
other  government  than  to  the  divine.  Many  a  father  sees  the 
*12 


138  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Meaning'  of  sacrifices.  Their  moral  influence. 

inefficacy  of  pardon,  merely  upon  the  ground  of  sorrow  and 
confession,  to  restrain  his  sons  from  sin,  and  man}^  a  pohtician 
will  admit  the  foUj  of  such  a  course  in  civil  society,  who 
yet  think  that  God  may  govern  his  dominions  on  such  a 
principle.  In  all  God's  dealings,  however,  with  man,  he  has 
taken  other  ground.  Sacrifices  were  instituted  so  eaiiy^  that 
they  have  spread  to  almost  every  people  under  the  sun. 
Wherever  you  go— to  the  most  distant  heathen  nation — to 
the  most  barbarous  tribe,  or  to  the  remotest  Island  of  the 
Ocean,  and  you  will  find  almost  all  prepared,  by  the  very 
custonjs  which  have  been  handed  down  from  the  time  of 
Noah,  to  admit  the  necessity,  that  there  ouust  be  retributive 
suffering  where  there  has  been  sin.  God  accustomed  the 
Jews,  when  they  had  done  wrong,  to  bring  an  offering, — not 
to  lead  them  to  suppose  that  the  sufferings  of  bulls  and  goats 
could  take  away  sin,  but  that  some  atonement  was  neces- 
sary. The  effect  upon  their  minds  was  undoubtedly  this : — 
A  man  having  committed  some  sin,  instead  of  merely  con- 
fessing his  guilt,  and  expecting  forgiveness,  as  a  matter  of 
course,  came  with  the  innocent  dove,  or  the  harmless  lamb, 
and  offered  it  in  sacrifice ;  and  when  he  did  it,  if  he  did  it  in 
the  right  spirit,  he  unquestionably  felt  that  his  sin  had  done 
an  injury  to  the  government  of  God,  which  he,  himself,  could 
not  repair.  He  could  not  come  back  to  innocence  alo7ie. 
The  ceremony  must  have  had  a  most  powerful  influence  in 
producing  a  practical  conviction  that  sin,  once  committed, 
could  not  be  recalled  by  the  individual  who  had  committed 
it,  but  must  involve  consequences  beyond  his  control.  Thai 
is  precisely  the  conviction  necessary  to  enable  us  to  avail 
ourselves  of  the  redemption  of  Christ.  It  is  exactly  the  pre- 
paration of  heart  to  lead  us  to  him.  We  have  sinned,  and 
the  evil  we  have  done,  it  is  out  of  our  power  to  remedy.  We 
may  stop  sinning,  but  the  evil  influence  of  our  past  guilt 
must  be  checked  by  some  other  agency,  far  more  powerful 
than  any  penitence  of  ours.  The  Jews,  then,  by  coming 
habitually  to  the  sacrifices  of  their  law,  had  this  feeling  tho- 
roughly wrought  into  all  their  thoughts  and  feehngs  on  the 
subject  of  sin  and  pardon.  When  they  came  with  sincere 
penitence  to  oflfer  the  sacrifice  required  by  the  law,  and  with 
such  a  feeling  as  I  have  described,  they  were  undoubtedly- 
forgiven,  through  the  mediation  of  a  far  greater  sacrifice, 
which  was  only  represented,  by  the  dove  or  the  lamb. 

If  we  thus  look  at  the  Jewish  history  and  institutions,  and 
see  their  spirit  and  design,  we  shall  see  that  they  all  point  to 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  139 


Conclusion  of  the  book.  Appropriate  language. 

Christ.  One  single  object  is  aimed  at  in  all.  After  the  his- 
tory is  brought  down  to  the  return  from  the  captivity  it  is 
suddenly  concluded — and  why?  Because  all  is  now  ready 
for  the  coming  of  Christ.  There  is  a  chasm  of  some  hun- 
dred years,  not  because  the  events  of  that  time  are  less  inter- 
esting than  of  the  preceding, — to  the  eye  of  the  mere  scholar 
or  political  historian,  they  are  more  so  ; — but  because  they  do 
not  bear  at  all  upon  the  great  event, — the  redemption  of  man- 
kirid  by  Jesus  Christ — to  which  the  whole  Bible  tends.  The 
nation  in  which  the  promised  Saviour  is  to  appear,  is  follow- 
ed in  its  various  difficulties  and  adventures  until  it  becomes 
finally  established  in  the  country  where  the  Messiah  is  to 
appear,  and  then  left.  There  could  not  be  a  stronger  proof 
that  the  Bible  has  the  history  of  Christ  for  its  great  object, 
or  that  that  object  is  kept  steadily  in  view. 

As  we  draw  towards  the  developement  of  the  drama,  how- 
ever, the  story  becomes  more  minute,  and  the  interest  increases. 
The  great  Redeemer  at  length  appears.  We  have  from  four 
separate  writers  a  narrative  of  his  life  ;  we  have  a  simple  ac- 
count of  the  first  efforts  to  spread  the  news  of  salvation 
through  him ;  we  have  a  few  of  the  writings  of  some  of  those 
who  originally  received  his  instructions,  and  then  a  revela- 
tion of  the  future — in  some  respects  clear  and  distinct,  in  the 
awful  pictures  of  scenes  to  come,  which  it  draws,  and  in 
others  dark,  and,  as  yet,  unintelligible  to  us — comes  in  to  close 
the  volume. 

There  is  something  deeply  sublime  in  the  languao-e 
with  which  this  final  conclusion  of  the  sacred  volume  is  an- 
nounced. Perhaps  it  was  intended  to  apply  particularly  to 
the  book  of  Revelation  itself, — but  we  can  scarcely  read  it 
without  the  conviction,  that  the  writer  felt  that  he  was  bring- 
ing to  a  close  a  series  of  communications  from  Heaven,  which 
had  been  making  for  fifteen  hundred  years.  The  great  sub- 
ject of  the  whole  was  now  fairly  presented  to  mankind.  The 
nature  and  the  effects  of  sin,  the  way  of  salvation,  and  the 
future  scenes  through  which  we  are  all  to  pass,  had  been 
described,  and  he  closes  w^th  the  invitation — oh,  how  cor- 
dially is  it  expressed — "And  the  spirit  and  the  bride  say. 
Come, — and  let  him  that  heareth,  say,  Come  ;" — that  is, 
spread  the  invitation  far  and  wide.  Let  every  one  that  hear- 
eth it,  pass  along  the  sound.  "  Let  him  that  is  athirst, 
come,  and  whosoever  will,  let  him  take  of  the  water  of  life 
freely." 


140  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

The  advent  of  the  Saviour.  Its  time  and  place. 

And  then  he  says — and  how  appropriate  is  this  language 
for  the  last  language  of  the  Bible — 

"  I  testify  unto  every  man  that  heareth  the  words  of  the 
prophecy  of  this  book,  if  any  man  shall  add  unto  these  things, 
God  shall  add  unto  him  the  plagues  that  are  written  in  this 
book :  and  if  any  man  shall  take  away  from  the  words  of 
the  books  of  this  prophecy,  God  shall  take  away  his  part  out 
of  the  book  of  life,  and  out  of  the  holy  city,  and  from  the 
things  which  are  written  in  this  book." 

Yes,  the  plan  and  object  of  the  Bible  is  single  and  simple 
from  beginning  to  end.  Amidst  all  that  endless  variety  which 
makes  it  an  inexhaustible  mine  of  interest  and  instruction, 
the  great  ultimate  object  is  never  lost  sight  of  or  forgotten. 
That  design  is  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  the  Son  of 
God ;  a  design  which  is  surely  great  enough  for  God  to  an- 
nounce to  his  creatures. 

There  is  something  interesting  in  the  ^ime  and  j!)/«ce  select- 
ed for  the  advent  of  the  Saviour.  This  earth  being  a  globe, 
of  course,  has  not,  that  is,  its  surface  has  not  any  geograph- 
ical centre  but  if  we  take  into  view  its  moral  and  political 
condition  and  history,  it  has  some  parts  far  more  suitable  to 
be  radiant  points  from  which  any  extraordinary  message  from 
Heaven  is  to  be  disseminated,  than  others.  It  would  be  dif- 
ficult to  find  a  place  more  suitable  for  such  a  purpose,  than 
the  very  country  chosen  by  Jehovah  as  the  scene  of  the  suf- 
ferings and  death  of  Christ.  Look  upon  the  map,  and  you 
will  find  that  the  land  of  Canaan  is  situated  upon  the  eastern 
coast  of  the  Mediterranean  sea,  and  if  you  look  east,  west, 
north,  and  south,  at  the  various  connexions  of  this  spot,  you 
will  find  that  no  other  on  earth  will  compare  with  it,  for  the 
purpose  for  which  it  was  selected.  Egypt  and  the  other  re- 
gions of  Africa,  on  the  south,  are  balanced  by  Syria  and  the 
Caucasian  countries  on  the  north.  There  were  the  Persian 
and  Assyrian  Empires  on  the  east,  and  there  were  the  Gre- 
cian and  Roman  Empires  on  the  west.  India  and  China, 
with  their  immense  multitudes  are  upon  one  side,  and  modern 
France,  and  England,  and  Germany,  with  their  vast  politi- 
cal power,  upon  the  other.  Then  look  upon  the  Mediterra- 
nean sea, — on  the  borders  of  which  Canaan  lies, — bathing 
as  it  does,  the  shores  of  three  quarters  of  the  globe,  and  bear- 
ing upon  its  bosom  almost  every  ship  that  sailed,  for  the  first 
five  thousand  years  of  this  earth's  history.     Palestine  is  a 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  141 

The  Mediterranean  sea.  Interesting-  associations. 

most  remarkable  spot  for  such  a  purpose.  If  no  such  com- 
munication had  ever  been  made  from  Heaven,  and  the  earth 
had  remained  in  darkness  and  paganism  to  the  present  day, 
its  history  having  remained,  in  other  respects,  the  same  as  it 
has  been,  and  we  had  looked  over  it  to  find  the  best  station  for 
an  embassy  from  above,  Judea  would  have  been  the  very  spot. 
We  should  have  pointed  to  the  Levant,  and  said,  here  is  the 
moral  centre  of  the  world.  If  a  missionary  from  heaven  is 
to  be  sent,  let  him  be  stationed  here. 

It  is  astonishing  how  much  of  the  interesting  history  of 
the  human  race,  has  had  for  its  scene  the  shores  of  the  Med- 
iterranean sea.  Egypt  is  there.  There  is  Greece.  Xerxes, 
Darius,  Solomon,  Ceesar,  Hannibal,  knew  no  extended  sea 
but  the  Mediterranean.  The  mighty  armies  of  Persia,  and 
the  smaller,  but  invincible  bands  of  the  Grecians,  passed  its 
tributaries.  Pompey  fled  across  it, — the  fleets  of  Rome  and 
of  Carthage  sustained  their  deadly  struggles  upon  its  waters  ; 
and  until  the  discovery  of  the  passage  round  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  the  commerce  of  the  world  passed  through  the 
ports  of  the  Mediterranean.  If  we  go  back  to  ancient  times, 
we  find  the  Phenician  sailors, — the  first  who  ventured  upon 
the  unstable  element, — slowly  and  fearfully  steering  tlieir 
little  barks  along  the  shores  of  this  sea,  and  if  we  come  down 
to  modern  times,  we  see  the  men  of  war  of  e\eYy  nation, 
proudly  ploughing  its  waves,  or  riding  at  anchor  in  its  har- 
bors. There  is  not  a  region  upon  the  face  of  the  earth,  so 
associated  with  the  recollectio'n  of  all  that  is  interesting  in 
the  history  of  our  race,  as  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean  sea ; 
nor  a  place  more  likely  to  be  chosen  by  the  Creator,  as  the 
spot  at  which  he  would  establish  his  communication  with 
men,  than  the  land  of  Judea. 

The  time  selected  is  as  worthy  of  notice  as  the  place ;  I 
mean  now,  the  time  of  the  advent  of  the  Messiah.  The 
world  had  been  the  scene  of  war  and  bloodshed  for  many 
centuries.  Empire  after  empire  had  arisen  upon  the  ruins  of 
the  preceding ;  none,  however,  obtaining  a  very  general  sway. 
At  last,  the  Roman  power  obtained  universal  ascendancy, 
and  all  was  at  peace.  A  very  considerable  degree  of  civili- 
zation and  knowledge  prevailed  over  a  great  part  of  the  then 
known  world,  and  every  thing  was  favorable  to  the  announce- 
ment and  rapid  spread  of  a  message  from  heaven,  provided 
that  the  message  itself,  should  come  properly  authenticated. 
The  message  did  come,  and  it  was  properly  authenticated. 


142  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Character  of  God.  Language  of  nature ;  of  the  Bible. 

and  the  peculiar  suitableness  of  the  time  and  place  selected 
were  seen  in  the  verj  rapid  spread  of  the  gospel  over  almost 
half  the  globe. 

There  is  another  topic  of  internal  evidence  of  the  ti*uth  of 
Christianitj^.  The  character  and  admniistration  of  God,  as 
exhibited  in  the  Bible,  correspond  precisely  with  the  same 
character  and  administration  as  exhibited  in  the  light  of  na- 
ture. Thej  both  exhibit  God  as  most  benevolent  in  his  feelings 
and  character,  but  most  decided  and  efficient  i7i  his  govern- 
ment. In  both,  we  find  him  providing  most  fully  for  the  hap- 
piness of  his  creatures, — but  in  both  we  see  him  frowning 
upon  sin  with  an  awful  severity  of  judgment,  from  which 
our  feelings  shrink.  This  is  a  fundamental  point,  and  it 
ought  to  be  fully  understood.  Let  us  look,  then,  at  God,  as 
he  reveals  himself  in  his  providence,  and  then  compare  the 
views  which  the  Bible  presents  of  him. 

See  yonder  child,  beginning  life,  with  streams  of  enjoy- 
ment coming  in  at  every  sense.  He  is  so  formed  that  every 
thing  he  has  to  do  is  a  source  of  delight.  He  has  an  eye  ; 
God  has  contrived  it  most  ingeniously,  to  be  the  means  by 
which  pleasure  comes  in  every  moment  to  him.  He  has  an 
ear,  so  intricately  formed  that  no  anatomist  or  physiologist 
has  yet  been  able  to  understand  its  mysteries  ;  God  has  so 
planned  it,  that  he  drinks  in  with  delight  the  sounds  which 
float  around  him.  How  many  times,  and  in  hdw  4nany 
waj^s  does  he  find  enjoyment  by  its  instrumentality.  The 
tones  of  conversation — the  evening  song  of  his  mother, — the 
hum  of  the  insect — the  noise  of  the  storm,  the  rumbling  of 
distant  thunder, — for  how  many  different  but  delightful  em- 
otions, has  the  Creator  provided.  So  with  all  the  other  senses ; 
and  now,  after  you  have  examined,  in  this  way,  the  whole 
structure,  body  and  mind  of  this  being,  follow  him  out  to  a 
summer's  walk,  and  see  how  a  benevolent  Creator  pours  upon 
him,  from  all  the  scenery  of  nature  around,  an  almost  over- 
whelming tide  of  delight.  God  smiles  upon  him  in  the  as- 
pect of  the  blue  heavens, — in  the  verdure  of  the  fields, — in 
the  balmy  breath  of  air  upon  his  cheek — and  in  the  very 
powers  and  faculties  themselves,  which  he  has  so  formed,  that 
every  motion  is  delight,  and  every  pulsation  is  a  thrill  of 
pleasure.  Such  a  revelation  does  nature  make  to  us  of  the 
character  of  God,  and  of  his  feelings  towards  his  creatures^ 
and  the  Bible  corresponds.     "God  is  love." 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  143 

The  sufferer  in  the  hospital. 

But  nature  speaks  to  us  sometimes  in  another  tone.  Let 
this  child  grow  up,  and  abandon  himself  to  vice  and  crime, 
and  after  the  lapse  of  a  few  years  let  us  seek  him  again. 
How  changed  will  be  the  scene.  To  see  him  you  must  fol- 
low me  to  the  hospital  room  of  an  alms  house ;  for  he  has 
given  hnnself  up  to  vice  and  endured  suffering,  as  a  vag- 
abond in  the  streets,  until  society  can  no  longer  endure  to 
witness  his  misery,  and  they  send  him  to  an  asylum  out  of 
their  sight,  in  mercy  both  to  themselves  and  to  him.  He  lies 
upon  his  bed  of  straw,  in  uninterrupted  agony.  His  bones 
are  knawed  and  his  flesh  corroded  by  disease  which  riots  up- 
on him.  Every  motion  is  torment,  every  pulsation  is  agony. 
For  the  God  who  has  so  formed  the  human  constitution,  that 
in  innocence,  and  in  the  health  which  generally  attends  it, 
all  is  happiness  and  peace  ;  has  yet  so  formed  it  that  vice  can 
bring  upon  it  sufferings,  awful  sufferings,  of  which  no  one 
but  the  miserable  victim,  can  conceive.  I  once  saw  in  an 
alms  house,  a  sufferer,  whose  picture  has  been  in  my  imagi- 
nation while  1  have  w-ritten  the  above.  I  have  used  general 
terms  in  my  description.  I  might  have  given  a  much  more 
detailed  and  vivid  a  picture  of  his  condition,  but  it  was  too 
shocking.  Were  my  readers  to  see  the  scene,  even  through 
the  medium  of  a  description  of  ordinary  clearness,  the  image 
of  It  would  haunt  them  day  and  night.  As  I  stood  by  the 
side  of  this  man,  and  reflected  that  God  had  brought  him 
into  that  condition,  and  that  God  was  holding  him  there,  and 
probably  would  hold  him  in  the  same  awful  suffering  w^hile 
life  should  remain,  I  could  not  help  reflecting  "with  what  an 
efficient  and  decided  a  moral  governor  have  we  to  do  *?"  No 
Titcin  would  have  held  this  miserable  being  in  his  sufferings, 
a  moment.  The  superintendant  of  the  hospital  would  have 
released  him  instantly  if  it  had  been  in  his  power.  But  God 
had  the  power,  and  God  held  the  guilty  breaker  of  his  law, 
under  the  dreadful  weight  of  its  penalty.  Man  shrinks  from 
witnessing  suffering,  even  where  it  is  necessary  to  inflict  it  ; 
but  this  feeling  will  not  measure,  and  it  has  no  power  to  limit 
God's  dreadful  energy  m  the  punishment  of  sin.  All  nature 
tells  us  so,  and  the  language  which  the  Bible  uses,  is  the  same 
"God  is  a  consuming  fire."  Our  feelings  can  no  more  contem- 
plate with  composure,  as  our  hearts  are  now  constituted,  the 
judgments  which  the  Bible  denounces  against  the  wicked 
in  another  world,  than  they  can  the  agonies  of  delirium  tre- 
mens, or  the  knawings  of  the  diseases  with  which  God  over- 


144  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Jehovah  just,  as  well  as  merciful.  Butler's  Analogy. 

whelms  the  dissipated  and  the  vile.  In  both  cases  there  is  a 
severity  whose  justice  we  must  admit,  but  whose  consequen- 
ces we  cannot  calmly  follow.  If  any  one  thinks  that  I  de- 
scribe the  character  of  God  m  too  dark  and  gloomy  colors,  I 
have  only  to  say  that  all  nature,  and  all  revelation,  unite  in 
painting  God  i7i  the  most  dark  and  gloomy  colors  possible, 
as  he  exhibits  himself  towards  those  icho  persist  in  breaking 
his  laio.  He  is  love  to  his  friends,  but  he  is  a  consuming 
fire  to  his  foes  ;  and  every  one  ought  to  go  to  the  judgment, 
expecting  to  find  a  monarch  thus  decided  and  efficient,  in 
the  execution  of  his  laws,  presiding  there. 

"  The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice ;"  says  the 
Psalmist, — and  again  he  says,  "  The  Lord  reigneth,  let  the 
people  trembled  We  have  abundant  evidence,  both  in  nature 
and  revelation,  that  we  must  rejoice  with  trembling  under 
the  government  of  God.  For  that  government  is  most  effi- 
cient and  decided  against  sin  ; — and  we  are  sinners. 

There  are  many  other  points  of  correspondence  between 
the  character  and  administration  of  God,  as  described  in  the 
Bible,  and  as  exhibited  in  the  constitution  of  nature.  But  I 
must  not  stop  now  to  describe  them.  Butler,  in  an  admira- 
ble work  usually  called  Butler's  Analogy,  has  explored  this 
ground  fully,  and  I  would  recommend  to  all  my  readers, 
who  take  an  interest  in  this  subject,  to  obtain  and  study  that 
work.  I  say  study  it,  for  it  is  not  a  work  to  be  merely  read, 
in  the  ordinary  sense  of  that  term,  it  must  be  most  thorough- 
ly studied,  and  studied  too  by  minds  in  no  inconsiderable 
degree  mature,  in  order  to  be  fully  appreciated. 

I  have  endeavored,  by  thus  mentioning  several  points,  in 
which  evidence  may  be  found  in  favor  of  the  truth  of  the 
Scriptures,  from  an  examination  of  their  contents,  to  illus- 
trate the  nature  of  the  Internal  Evidence.  I  have  not  de- 
signed to  present  the  argument  fully.*  Having  accomplish- 
ed, however,  the  purpose  intended,  I  now  proceed  to  the  third 
head  I  proposed. 

•  I  would  recommend  to  those  of  mv  readers  who  arc  interested  in  this  pwt 
of  my  subject  the  examination  of  the  following'  works  : — (^halmer's  B\'idences 
of  Christianity  ;  Paley's  do.  5  Alexander's  do. ;  Leslie's  Short  Method  with 
Deists ;  Paley's  Horae  Paulinae  j  Butler's  Analogy. 


EVIDENCES    OF   CHRISTIANITY.  145 


III.  Experimental  evidence.  Case  of  sickness  supposed. 

III.       EXPERIMENTAL    EVIDENCE. 

The  Experimental  Evidence  of  the  truth  of  Christianity 
is  that  evidence,  as  I  have  ah-eady  explained,  which  resuhs 
from  witnessing  its  moral  power  over  the  human  heart. 
This  13  the  most  convincing  of  all.  It  is  direct.  There  is 
no  laborious  examination  of  witnesses  to  bring  the  truth  to 
us — no  groping  in  the  dimness  of  ancient  times,  and  strain- 
ing the  sight  to  ascertain  the  forms  of  objects  and  the  char- 
acters of  occurrences  there.  All  is  before  us.  We  can  see 
distinctly, — for  the  proof  is  near.  We  can  examine  it  as 
minutely  and  leisurely, — for  it  is  constantly  recurring. 

I  have  remarked,  that  I  considered  this  species  of  evidence 
as  far  more  calculated  to  make  a  strong  impression  upon  the 
mind  than  either  of  the  two  preceding  heads  I  have  describ- 
ed, on  account  of  the  difficulty,  on  the  part  of  those  whose 
lives  are  not  devoted  to  literary  pursuits,  of  looking  back 
eighteen  hundred  years,  and  judging  with  confidence  of  evi- 
dence in  regard  to  events  that  occurred  then.  But  I  have 
often  heard  it  remarked,  by  men  amply  qualified  to  investi- 
gate such  subjects,  that  the  power  of  the  Bible,  as  they  have 
often  seen  it  exerted,  in  bringing  back  to  virtue  and  to  hap- 
piness, some  miserable  victim  of  vice  and  crime,  has  made  a 
far  stronger  impression  upon  them,  in  favor  of  its  divine  ori- 
gin, than  any  examination  of  the  labored  arguments  of 
learned  men.  Now  this  must  be  so,  not  only  in  the  case  of 
Christianity,  but  in  all  similar  cases. 

Suppose  that  some  dreadful  plague  should  break  out  in 
London,  and,  after  raging  for  many  months, — suspending- 
all  business, — driving  away  from  the  city  all  who  could  fly, 
— and  carrying  consternation  and  death  into  all  the  families 
that  should  remain, — suppose  that,  after  all  this,  the  news 
should  arrive  that  in  some  distant  part  of  the  earth  a  remedy 
had  been  discovered  for  the  disease.  We  will  imagine  it 
to  have  been  in  China.  Perhaps  the  same  disease  had  brok- 
en out  in  former  times  at  Canton,  and  some  plant  growing 
in  that  vicinity  had  been  found  to  be  a  specific  against  it. 
It  would  cure  the  sick  and  protect  the  healthy.  The  gov- 
ernment of  Great  Britain  concludes  to  send  a  ship  to  China, 
to  obtain  a  supply  of  the  remedy.  After  waiting  the  proper  . 
time  for  the  voyage,  a  telegraph  announces  the  arrival  of 
the  ship  on  her  return.  She  sails  up  the  Thames,  comes 
13 


146  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

Medicine.  Proof  of  it.  The  mother. 

to  anchor, — and  soon  the  remedy  for  which  they  have  all 
waited  so  anxiously,  is  in  full  circulation  about  the  city. 
Now,  which  will  interest  the  people  of  London  most  in  such 
a  case?  Will  it  be  an  examination  of  the  ( fleers  of  that 
ship,  in  order  to  satisfy  themselves  that  they  are  not  impos- 
ing some  spurious  article  on  the  nation  ?  Will  they  lay 
aside  the  remedy  itself — and  allow  the  sick  to  die,  and  the 
well  to  be  attacked,  while  they  examine  the  proof  that  this 
ship  has  actually  been  to  China,  and  that  her  supercargo 
was  really  faithful  in  obtaining  the  identical  article  for 
which  he  was  sent  ?  No — all  such  inquiries,  if  they  are 
made  at  all,  would  be  left  to  the  few  official  agents  by  whom 
the  ship  had  been  employed.  The  mass  of  the  population 
would  turn  themselves  to  the  remedy  itself,  with  the  eager 
question,  "  Will  this  medicine  cure  ?"  And,  notwithstajiding 
any  scepticism  or  opposition  of  a  few,  who  might  be  interested 
in  sustaining  some  other  mode  of  treatment,  the  imported 
remedy,  if  found  successful  upon  trial,  would  soon  be  in  uni- 
versal circulation  among  the  sick  all  over  the  city. 

Now,  shall  a  man  who  is  still  under  the  power  and  dominion 
of  sin,  with  this  great  remedy,  which  has  saved,  and  is  con- 
tinually saving,  thousands  all  around  him,  entirely  within  his 
reach, — shall  he  waste  his  time  in  speculations  and  inquiries 
in  regard  to  the  manner  in  which  Christianity  came  into  the 
world,  instead  of  flying  to  it  at  once  as  the  remedy  for  all 
his  sin  and  suffering.  No  ;  come  at  once  and  try  the  remedy. 
It  restores  others  to  health  and  happiness,  and  it  will  restore 
you.  Come  and  be  saved  by  it,  and  then  you  may  inquire 
at  your  leisure  how  it  came  into  the  world. 

In  regard  to  the  case  I  supposed  above,  I  have  spoken  of 
the  scepticism  or  opposition  of  those  who  might  be  interest- 
ed in  some  other  mode  of  treatment.  Suppose  one  of  these 
men,  interested  in  the  continuance  of  the  disease,  and  inhu- 
man enough  to  desire,  on  this  account,  to  perpetuate  the 
misery  of  his  fellows,  should  come  into  some  wretched  tene- 
ment, in  a  crowded  part  of  the  city,  and  should  find  there 
one  or  two  inmates,  suffering  all  the  power  of  the  disease. 
They  are  children.  The  mother  has  been  away  to  some 
public  office,  from  which  the  remedy  is  distributed  to  the 
poor,  and  has  obtained  a  supply  for  her  dying  boys.  As  she 
comes  to  their  bedside,  and  begins  with  trembling  joy  to  ad- 
minister it,  her  hand  is  arrested  by  the  visiter,  who  says  to 
her,  "  Stop ;  how  do  you  know  that  this  is  a  real  remedy  for 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  147 

The  mother  and  her  sick  sons.  The  unbeliever, 

this  disease.  I  believe  it  is  all  an  imposition.  That  ship 
never  came  from  China.  I  believe  the  captain  and  crew  all 
united  in  an  attempt  to  impose  upon  the  community.  At 
any  rate,  you  have  yet  no  evidence  to  the  contrary.  You 
have  not  examined  her  papers — you  have  seen  no  official 
documents, — you  have  heard  no  witnesses.  If  you  are  wise, 
you  will  look  into  this  subject  a  little,  before  you  place  your 
confidence  in  a  remedy  which  will  probably,  after  all,  prove 
only  imposture  and  delusion." 

What  would  be  the  reply.  The  mother,  if  she  should  stop 
to  say  any  thing,  would  say  this : 

"  I  have  not  time  to  examine  any  documents  or  witnesses ; 
my  children  are  dying.  Besides,  this  medicine  has  cured 
hundreds  in  this  city — and  is  curing  hundreds  more.  Nay, 
I  was  myself  sick,  and  it  has  cured  me.  That  is  the  evi- 
dence I  rely  upon.  I  believe  it  will  save  them,  and  there  is 
nothing  else  to  try." 

That  is  in  substance  what  she  would  say,  and  they  who 
wish  to  be  saved  from  sin,  should  say  the  same.  You  suf- 
fer, now,  under  this  disease,  and  you  must  suffer  more 
hereafter,  and  nothing  but  Christianity  pretends  to  be  able  to 
save.  It  is  successful,  wherever  it  is  tried.  Now,  suppose 
an  infidel,  or  a  vicious  man,  interested  in  perpetuating  sin  in 
this  world,  and  inhuman  enough  to  be  willing  that  the  suf- 
ferings of  sin  should  continue  to  burden  his  fellows,  should 
come  and  say  to  you,  "  This  religion  is  delusion  : — it  is  all 
an  imposture."  You  need  not — you  ought  not  to  go  with 
him  into  any  examination  of  documents  and  witnesses.  You 
ought  only  to  say,  "Christianity  saves  others  and  makes  them 
virtuous  and  happy — and  I  hope  it  will  save  me." 

But  I  must  present,  more  distinctly,  the  evidence  that 
Christianity  has  power,  to  rescue  from  sin,  and  that  it  exhibits 
this  power  now  in  the  world.  "And  now  how  shall  I  shew 
this,"  thought  I,  when  I  first  began  to  reflect  on  the  way  in 
which  I  should  treat  this  part  of  my  subject.  "How  shall 
I  present  mo3t  clearly  and  vividly  to  the  young,  the  moral 
power  of  C  hristianity  V  I  thought  first,  of  the  elevated  rank, 
in  knowledge,  in  civilization,  to  which  all  christian  nations 
had  attained,  and  concluded  to  shew,  if  I  could,  that  the 
passions  and  sins  of  men,  always,  when  left  to  themselves, 
loaded  communities  with  a  burden  which  repressed  all  growth, 
kept  the  mind  from  expanding  and  the  arts  of  life  from 
flourishing,  and  bound  down  the  whole  in  barbarism  or  in 


148  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Power  of  Christianity.  Particular  case. 

subjection  to  despotic  power.  Among  the  thousands  of  na- 
tions which  this  earth  has  seen,  there  have  not  been  more 
than  half  a  dozen  exceptions  to  this.  Christianity  controls 
these  passions,  and  purities  communities  to  such  an  extent, 
that  mind  is  free  ;  and  then  the  energies  with  which  God  has 
provided  them,  freely  expand.  Religion  has  taken  ofl'  the  pres- 
sure which  had  imprisoned  them  ;  and  thus  christian  nations 
have  arisen  to  a  rank,  and  power,  and  freedom,  which  no  other 
communities  have  ever  attained.  There  is  not  a  savage 
christian  \\?ii\on  o\\  the  globe.  A  savage  Christian  !  It  is 
a  contradiction  in  terms. 

But  I  thought  that  such  general  views  and  statements  were 
not  calculated  to  produce  so  distinct  and  clear  an  impression 
upon  the  mind,  especially  upon  the  young,  and  then  I 
thought  that  I  might  point  eveiy  one  of  my  readers  to  some 
particular  cases,  which  have  occurred,  undoubtedly,  within 
the  observation  of  every  one.  There  is  not  a  village  in  our 
land  where  are  not  to  be  seen  some  of  the  triumphs  of  the 
gospel.  There  is  a  vicious  man  reclaimed,  or  a  careless  sel- 
fish ungovernable  young  man  made  humble  and  faithful,  and 
docile,  by  the  power  of  the  Bible.  Such  cases  are  within 
the  observation  of  every  one,  and  if  each  one  of  my  readers 
would  look  at  some  such  case,  which  has  occurred  within 
his  own  immediate  reach,  and  examine  all  its  circumstances, 
he  would  find  in  it  an  overwhelming  proof  that  the  Bible  is, 
indeed,  a  remedy  for  sin.  But  the  difficulty  is,  that  such 
cases  are  so  common  that  they  lose  all  their  power  to  impress 
us.  When  vaccination  was  first  found  to  be  an  efficient  pro- 
tection from  a  most  terrible  disease,  it  excited  universal  atten- 
tion and  surprise,  and  the  cases  of  reform  from  vice  and  sin 
now  continually  taking  place,  in  every  tmly  Christian  coun- 
try, would  be  regarded  with  admiration,  were  they  solitary. 
But  they  are  common — very  common,  and  they  produce  a 
comparatively  faint  impression. 

But  to  shew  distinctly  the  efficacy  of  this  remedy  for  sin, 
I  shall  point  you  to  its  operation  in  particular  cases.  And 
in  choosing  the  cases  topresLirt,!  have  selected  somewhere  the 
disease  had  indeed  made  great  progress,  but  which  are  in 
other  respects  very  common.  They  are  both  cases  of  con- 
victs in  a  State  prison.  I  might,  perhaps,  have  selected 
narrations  far  more  interesting  and  striking  in  their  attendant 
circumstances,  but  1  have  chosen  to  present  those  which 
may  be  taken  as  a  fair  specimen  of  the  ordinary  effects  of 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  149 

Prisons.  Old  and  new  system  of  discipline. 

the  Bible  in  saving  from  sin.  Mj  object  is  utility,  and  it  is 
therefore  far  better  to  secure  sound  logic  than  to  bring  for- 
ward a  romantic  story. 

The  reason  I  take  the  cases  of  convicts,  is,  because  I  am 
now  considering  Christianity  in  regard  to  its  power  to  heal 
the  disease,  sin, — of  course  the  more  violent  the  form  of  the 
disease,  the  more  clear  is  the  exhibition  of  power  in  the  rem- 
edy which  cures  it.  The  prisons  of  our  country  may  be 
considered  as  hospitals, — moral  hospitals ;  where  those  whose 
disease  has  become  so  violent  and  malignant  that  it  is  no 
longer  safe  to  allow  them  to  go  at  large  in  society,  are  shut 
up,  so  that  they  can  injure  no  one,  at  least  for  a  time.  It  has 
been,  and  it  is  now  the  practice,  in  many  countries,  to  shut 
up  these  miserable  victims  together,  and  leave  them  to  them- 
selves. Of  course  they  grew  worse  and  worse.  The  prac- 
tice is  as  absurd  as  it  would  be  to  send  a  hundred  patients,  in 
all  the  stages  of  fever,  consumption,  and  plague,  into  one 
great  crowded  hospital  together,  with  no  physician,  no  med- 
icine, and  no  attendants  but  turn-keys,  and  there  to  leave 
them,  each  one,  by  the  unobstructed  intercommunication, 
conveying  his  own  peculiar  infection  to  all  the  rest ;  the  whole 
exposed  to  every  cause  that  can  aggravate  disease,  and  thus 
forming  one  living  mass  of  pestilence  and  corruption.  Such 
have  been  a  great  many  prisons,  and  those  who  entered  them 
came  out  far  worse  than  they  went  in. 

Some  philanthropists  formed,  some  years  ago,  the  plan  of 
visiting  these  prisons,  and  carrying  the  Bible  there,  believing 
that  its  moral  power  would  be  great  enough  to  cure  even 
those  desperate  cases  of  disease.  And  it  has  succeeded.  A 
vast  number  of  the  most  abandoned  men  have  been  entirely 
reformed  by  it.  I  do  not  mean  that  they  have  pretended  to 
be  reformed  while  in  the  prison,  but  have  been  proved  to  have 
been  reformed  by  their  good  conduct  after  having  been  re- 
stored to  society,  when  the  time  of  their  imprisonment  had 
expired. 

As  I  remarked  above,  I  have  concluded  to  take  as  speci- 
mens of  the  power  of  Christianity,  some  of  these  cases.  The 
account  of  the  first  was  taken  down  from  the  individual's 
own  lips  while  he  was  in  prison,  by  a  gentleman  who  vis- 
ited him  there.  There  is  nothing  at  all  extraordinary  in  it, 
except  that  the  individual  was  a  very  bad  man.  I  give  the 
account  in  his  own  language,  except  that  1  have  in  one  or 
iwo  instances,  inserted  a  few  words,  to  make  the  sense  more 
*13 


150  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Stories  of  the  convicts.  The  disobedient  son. 

clear,  and  I  have  omitted  some  of  the  very  frank  confessions 
of  his  vices  and  crimes,  which  could  not  be  properly  intro- 
duced into  this  book. 


THE    FIRST    CONVICT  S  STORY. 

"  When  I  had  been  in  prison  about  eighteen  months,  I  be- 
gan to  think  of  mj  past  ways,  and  to  see  that  I  had  sinned 
against  God — to  think  about  dying,  and  where  I  should  go, 
when  I  die  and  appear  before  God.  When  I  first  came 
here  I  did  not  think  any  thing  about  dying.  I  had  no  just 
idea  of  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  did  not  know  any  thing  of 
the  Lord.  I  first  began  to  think  about  my  former  life,  when 
I  had  been  here  about  eighteen  months.  Once  I  went  off 
from  all  my  friends,  and  never  let  any  of  them  know  where 
I  was  going.  I  led  one  of  my  brothers  away,  and  it  was  the 
means  of  his  death.  After  I  lost  my  brother  I  went  home 
again,  and  my  father  blamed  me  for  leading  him  away.  1 
had  been  two  years  from  home,  and  my  parents  said  that  I 
was  the  means  of  my  brother's  death.  They  tried  to  make 
me  steady  and  get  me  work  at  home  then ;  but  I  would'  nt 
be  steady  more  than  a  few  months,  before  I  went  off  again. 
My  father  told  me  I  was  fittmg  myself  for  State's  Prison.  I 
went  away,  however,  and  it  was  only  about  two  months  be- 
fore I  committed  my  crime  and  was  put  into  jail.  That  was 
the  first  time  I  ever  saw  the  inside  of  Prison.  I  often  used 
to  think  of  my  brother  after  I  came  into  the  prison.  A 
great  many  nights,  I  used  to  see  a  black  coffin  placed  before 
me,  and  hear  a  voice  telling  me  I  must  go  soon  and  follow 
him.  I  not  only  thought  of  these  things,  but  all  my  wicked 
thoughts  and  all  my  actions  were  presented  before  me — what 
I  had  done,  and  how  I  had  walked  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord. 
I  used  to  be  a  very  vicious  man,  and  all  the  places  where  I 
had  been,  would  appear  before  me.  And  I  used  to  be  a  violent 
blasphemer,  too,  and  a  riotous  person  ;  and  I  saw  a  sign  which 
said,  this  is  the  road  adulterous  persons  and  blasphemers  go. 

After  I  had  thought  about  my  wicked  life,  I  felt  that  I  had 
incurred  the  holy  displeasure  of  the  Lord,  and  deserved  all 
that  he  could  inflict  upon  me.  I  thought  that  I  could  not 
suffer  too  much.  I  could  then  see  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  how 
it  had  followed  me  in  every  place  where  I  had  been.  I  found 
that  it  was  the  law  of  the  Lord  that  brought  me  here,  for  sins 
which  I  had  committed  agaiivst  God,  and  not  against  my 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  151 

Conversation.  His  struggles  with  sin. 

fellow  men."     Here  the  gentleman  who  was  visiting  him 
asked  him, 

"  How  does  your  heart  appear  to  you  now  ?" 
"  My  heart  appears,  at  times,  set  upon  evil,  and  then  again, 
sometimes,  I  feel  that  I  shall  get  to  Heaven ;  and  then  again, 
I  feel  very  much  discouraged.  Whenever  wicked  thoughts 
arise  in  my  heart,  I  sometmies  feel  that  the  Lord  has  given 
me  up.  Then,  again,  there  is  something  to  enliven  my  feel- 
mgs,  and  all  my  wicked  thoughts  go  away.  My  worldly 
thoughts  will  be  drawn  away,  and  my  mind  will  be  on 
Heavenly  things.  I  did  not  know  what  it  meant  when  my 
heart  used  to  burn  within  me,  until  I  asked  my  teacher  in 
Sabbath  School,  if  man's  heart  would  be  warm  when  he  had 
right  feelings  of  heart." 

"  Do  you  find  temptation  to  sin,  now  ?"    asked  the  gentle- 
man. 

"  Yes,  sir." 
"  What  do  you  do  ?" 
"  I  trust  in  the  Lord." 

"  Do  you  yield  to  your  evil  passions  and  lusts  now?" 
"  I  have,  sometimes.     I  feel  now  that  the  Lord  will  keep 
me  from  them.     There  is  nothing  that  causes  me  to  grieve 
so,  as  that  very  thing," 

"  Does  it  take  away  your  happiness  ?" 
"  It  did  for  a  time." 

"  What  security  can  you  have  that  when  you  go  out  you 
will  not  do  just  as  you  have  done." 

"  All  my  hope  is  in  the  Lord.     I  rely  upon  the  mercj^  of 
the  Lord  to  keep  me.     Of  myself,  1  can  do  nothing,  I  rely 
upon  the  mercy  of  the  Lord." 
"  Was  you  a  drunken  man  ?" 

"  I  have  been  intoxicated  a  number  of  times,  but  1  was 
never  much  given  to  it." 

In  the  course  of  the  conversation  the  convict  said, 

"  I  want  to  ask  if,  after  men  have  repented  of  their  sins, 

there  will  ever  be  times  when  they  will  give  up  to  their  lusts?" 

"  It  is  a  very  bad  sign,  if  they  do,"  replied  the  gentleman. 

"  Once,  when  I  was  greatly  tempted,  I  wept  before  the 

Lord  night  after  night,  and  there  was  a  man  appeared  to  me 

in  the  room,  and  said  to  me,  "thy  sins  are  pardoned ;"   and 

since  that  I  have  been  no  more   tempted,    and    I  think   it 

was  to  show  me  that  I  had  trusted  too  much  to  m}^  own 

heart.     I  thought  I  had  been  so  long  without  any  tempta- 


15^  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

The  story  true.  Second  story.  Nature  of  ardent  spirit. 

tion  that  I  was  fairly  weaned.  I  thought  so — but  then  I 
was  tempted — and  nov/  I  know  I  tmsted  more  to  my  own 
heart,  than  I  did  to  the  Lord." 

Such  was  the  substance  of  the  conversation,  taken  down 
by  the  gentleman  on  the  spot,  and  copied  by  me  for  this  book, 
from  his  original  record.  And  I  beg  that  my  readers  will 
not  forget,  that  my  object  in  presenting  it,  is  not  to  offer  them 
a  remarkable  or  an  interesting  story.  There  is  nothing  re- 
markable in  it,  and,  excepting  for  the  purpose  of  my  argu- 
ment, nothing  particularly  interesting.  It  is,  however,  a  re- 
markably fair  specimen  of  the  ordinary  operation  of  religious 
truth,  in  convicting  of  sin  and  bringing  man  back  to  his 
duty.  p.- 

But  I  must  postpone  the  comments  upon  this  story  which 
I  intend  to  make,  until  I  have  given  the  second  narrative. 
The  reason  why  I  present  two,  is  because  no  ojie  that  I  could 
obtain,  exhibits  as  fully  as  I  could  wish  all  the  important 
points  I  wish  to  bring  to  view. 

SECOND    convict's    STORY. 

There  lived  in  one  of  the  middle  States  some  years  ago, 
a  man  whom  I  shall  call  W.  I  suppress  his  real  name. 
His  character  was  bad,  and  he  lived  with  another  man, 
whose  character  was  worse  than  his  own. 

His  employer,  having  some  quarrel  with  another  man, 
wanted  W.  to  kill  him.  He  endeavored,  for  five  or  six 
months,  to  induce  him  to  do  it,  but  he  did  not  succeed. 
W.,  however,  showed  a  degree  of  indecision  about  it,  which 
encouraged  his  wicked  employer  to  persevere.  A  good  man 
would  have  refused  an  application  like  that,  in  such  terms, 
and  in  such  a  manner,  that  it  never  would  have  been  re- 
newed. 

The  employer,  however,  understood  his  character,  and, 
like  all  other  bad  men,  who  endeavor  to  induce  others  to 
commit  crime,  he  knew  of  an  agent  which  would  effectually 
assist  him  to  prevail  upon  W.  to  do  the  fatal  deed.  That 
agent  was  ardent  spirit, — the  universal  stimulus  to  crime. 
He  accordingly  gave  it  to  him,  not  in  such  quantities  as 
completely  to  intoxicate  him,  but  moderately, — only  enough 
to  destroy  what  little  conscience  he  had,  and  yet  leave  him, 
in  a  considerable  degree,  the  possession  of  his  faculties. 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  153 

W.'s  crime.  Learning  lo  read  in  prison.  First  lesson. 

After  he  had  drank  the  rum,  he  went  and  laid  down  to 
sleep  in  the  sknls  of  a  wood,  where  they  expected  to  com- 
mit the  murder.  In  a  little  while,  another  man,  who  had 
been  employed  to  assist  in  this  work,  came  and  woke  him 
up,  and  said  to  hma,  "  If  we  mean  to  do  any  thing,  we  had 
better  do  it  now."  W.  accordingly  rose,  and  they  went 
together.  When  they  came  to  their  victim.  Jack  shot  at 
him,  and  then  his  accomplice  took  the  gun  and  beat  bin) 
over  the  head  till  he  was  dead. 

Two  persons  were  hung  for  this  crime,  and  W.  was 
sentenced  to  the  State  prison  for  a  long  time.  The  man 
whom  they  had  killed  was  a  very  bad  man,  but,  as  W. 
afterwards  said,  that  was  no  cloak  for  him. 

When  W.  came  to  the  prison,  he  was  very  ignorant. 
He  did  not  know  his  own  age  accurately,  and  he  could  not 
read.  There  was,  in  that  prison,  however,  a  very  faithful 
chaplain,  who,  knowing  that  the  Bible  alone  could  be  the 
means  of  reforming  the  miserable  convicts,  always  placed 
that  book  before  them  immediately.  When  they  could  not 
read,  he  used  to  teach  them.  I  have  been  told  that  this 
course  has  been  taken  to  teach  them.  The  first  lesson 
was  the  first  word  in  the  Bible — I-n. 

"  That  word  is  In''  the  teacher  would  say  to  the  prisoner 
in  his  cell.  "  Can  you  see  how  many  letters  there  are  in  it  ?" 

"  Two,"  the  prisoner  would  reply,  after  examining  it. 

"  Yes  :"  answers  the  teacher.  "  The  first  letter  is  called 
i ;  the  second,  n.  These  letters  are  very  common  in  the 
Bible,  and  in  all  reading.  See  if  you  can  find  another  n, 
anywhere  on  this  page." 

The  prisoner  then  would  look  very  attentively  along  the 
lines  until  he  found  the  letter  required.  If  he  made  a  mis- 
take, and  found  an  m  or  an  r  instead,  the  teacher  would 
explain  the  difference,  and  call  his  attention  more  fully  to 
the  true  form  of  the  n.  He  would  also  explain  that  the  dif- 
ference between  the  capital  and  small  z,  and  show  his  pupil 
that  he  must  expect  to  find  the  small  i,  generally.  He 
would  then  leave  him,  asking  him  to  find  as  many  of  these 
letters  as  he  could  before  the  teacher  should  come  again. 

The  next  lesson  would  be  the  next  word,  the  ;  and  thus 
the  pupil  would  go  on  slowly,  spelling  his  way  until  he  had 
learned  to  read  I'or  hnnself.  The  attempt  was  proposed  to 
W.  and  he  commenced  it,  and,  although  considerably  ad- 
vanced in  life,  he  made  no  little  progress  in  his  work.     He 


154  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Effect  of  the  Bible  upon  W.  Sins  against  God. 

soon  was  able  to  read  considerably,  and,  as  the  truths  of  the 
word  of  God  came  home  to  his  mind,  they  produced  their 
usual  effects  there.  They  led  him  to  see  his  sins  and  to  feel 
them. — and  they  led  him  to  come  to  the  Saviour  for  pardon. 
His  whole  character  was  changed,  but  I  must  allow  him  to 
describe  this  change  in  his  own  words. 

These  words  were  taken  down  by  the  same  gentleman 
whom  I  have  mentioned  before.  He  visited  him  in  prison, 
and,  after  first  conversing  with  him  in  regard  to  the  crime  for 
which  he  had  been  committed,  asked  him, 

"  Well,  W.,  how  do  this  and  all  your  other  sins  now 
appear  to  you  ?" 

"  Very  great,"  said  he,  "  but  this  does  not  appear  so  great 
as  all  my  other  sins  against  God,  cursing  and  swearing  and 
getting  drunk.  When  I  first  began  to  reflect  in  my  cell,  I 
saw  my  sins  so  great,  that  I  felt  I  could  not  be  forgiven.  I 
was  sitting  down  one  day  at  my  work  in  the  prison,  and  the 
chaplain  came  along  and  asked  me  my  crime.  I  told 
him. 

"  '  That,'  said  he,  '  is  one  of  the  greatest  crimes,  but  then 
you  may  remember  David's  sin,  and  he  was  forgiven.  Let 
your  crime  be  as  great  as  it  will,  pray  to  God,  and  put  your 
trust  in  him,  and  you  shall  find  rest  to  your  soul. 

"  He  told  me  also,  that  if  1  could  not  read,  he  would  visit 
me  in  my  cell,  and  put  me  in  the  way.  1  shall  ever  love 
him,  while  God  gives  me  breath,  I  shall  love  the  Chaplain, 
for  he  put  me  in  the  way  to  save  my  soul.  He  made  me 
promise  him  faithfully,  that  I  would  go  to  God,  and  try  to 
find  mercy,  and  yet,  master,  I  had  a  doubt  in  my  heart, — my 
sins  were  so  heavy, — whether  I  should  be  forgiven.  The 
Chaplain  soon  left  me,  and  I  went  into  my  cell,  and  poured 
out  my  heart  to  God,  to  have  mercy  on  me.  The  more  I 
prayed,  the  more  miserable  I  grew.  Heavier  and  heavier 
were  my  sins. 

"The  next  day  Mr.  B.  came  along,  and  I  asked  him  to 
read  a  chapter  to  mc,  as  God  would  have  it  he  turned  to  the 
the  55th  chapter  of  Isaiah.  It  said,  "  Every  one  that  thirst- 
eth  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and  he  that  hath  no  money, 
come  ye,  buy  wine  and  milk,  without  price."  He 
read  along  to  where  the  Prophet  says,  "  Let  the  wicked 
forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and 
let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon 
him  ;  and  to  our  God  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon.     For 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  155 

W.'s  mental  suffering.  His  prayer. 

my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways 
my  ways,  saith  the  Lord.  For  as  the  heavens  are  higher 
than  the  earth,  so  are  my  ways  higher  than  your  ways,  and 
my  thoughts  than  your  thoughts. 

"  I  found  this  gave  me  great  encouragement  to  go  on  to 
pray,  to  see  if  I  could  find  relief  from  all  my  troubles, — the 
load  of  sin  that  was  on  my  heart.  I  thought  and  prayed, 
and  the  more  1  prayed,  the  more  wretched  I  grew ;  the 
heavier  my  sins  appeared  to  be. 

"  A  night  or  two  after  that,  the  Chaplain  came  to  my  cell, 
and  asked  me  how  I  felt.  I  told  him  my  sins  were  greater 
than  I  could  bear, — so  guilty, — so  heavy.  He  asked  me  if 
I  thought  praying  would  make  my  sins  txny  less,  I  gave 
him  no  answer.  He  soon  left  me,  and  I  went  again  to 
prayer.  I  was  almost  fit  to  expire.  In  all  my  sorrows  I 
had  not  a  right  sorrow.  My  sorrow  was  because  I  had 
sinned  against  man. 

"  The  Sunday  following  just  after  I  had  carried  my  din- 
ner into  my  cell,  I  put  my  dinner  down,  and  I  went  to  prayer. 
I  rose,  and  just  as  I  rose  frcm  my  prayer  the  Chaplain  was 
at  the  door.  '  We  are  all, guilty  creatures,'  he  said  to  me, 
'  and  we  cannot  be  saved  except  God,  for  Christ' s  sake,  will 
save  us.  If  we  pray  and  go  to  God,  we  must  go  in  the 
name  of  Jesus  Christ ;  if  we  expect  to  be  saved,  we  must  be 
saved  through  the  blood,  and  righteousness  of  Jesus  Christ.' 
Then  I  picked  up  encouragement. 

"  '  The  sins  which  you  have  committed,'  he  went  on,  '  are 
against  your  fellow  creatures,  but  they  are  much  more 
against  GofV  Now  I  never  knew  before  that  they  were 
against  God.  When  the  chaplain  left  me,  I  went  to  prayer 
again.  I  could  eat  nothing  that  day.  I  did  not  eat  a  mouth 
full. 

"  I  recollected  at  that  time  that  a  minister  had  told  me, 
whenever  I  had  a  chapter  read,  to  have  the  51st  Psalm.  I 
could  not  see  any  body  to  get  to  read  it,  and  how  to  find  it 
I  did  not  know,  and  the  Sunday  following  before  the  keeper 
unlocked  the  door,  I  rose  up  and  went  to  prayer,  and  I  praj^ed, 
'  O  Lord  thou  knowest  I  am  ignorant,  brought  up  in  igno- 
rance. Thou  knowest  my  bringing  up.  Nothing  is  too 
hard  for  thee  to  do.  May  it  please  thee,  O  Lord,  to  shew  me 
that  chapter,  that  I  may  read  it  with  understanding.'  I  rose 
from  prayer,  and  went  to  my  Bible  and  took  it  up.  I  began 
the  first  Psalm,  and  turned  over  and  counted  every  Psalm, 


156  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


His  way  of  finding  the  51st  Psalm.  His  relief. 

and  it  appeared  to  me  that  God  was  with  me,  and  I  counted 
right  to  the  51st  Psahn.  I  could  read  a  little,  and  I  begun 
to  spell  H-a-v-e  m-e-r-c-y  &c. ;  I  looked  over  the  Psalm, 
and  spelt  it,  and  read  it  and  then  put  the  Bible  down,  and  fell 
upon  m}^  knees,  and  prayed.  '  Have  mercy  upon  me,  O  God, 
according  unto  the  multitude  of  thy  tender  mercies,  blot  out  my 
transgressions.  Wash  me  thoroughly  from  mine  iniquities, 
and  cleanse  me  from  my  sins,  for  my  sin  is  ever  before  me. 
Against  thee,  thee  only  have  I  sinned  and  done  this  evil  in 
thy  sight ;  that  thou  mightest  be  justified  when  thou  speak- 
est,  and  clear  when  thou  judgest.' 

"  When  I  came  to  the  words,  '  Deliver  me  from  blood- 
guiltiness,'  I  was  struck  dumb.  I  could  not  say  any  more 
at  that  time.  I  fell  upon  my  knees  and  prayed  to  God  to 
have  mercy  upon  me  for  Christ's  sake.  But  I  only  grew 
more  and  more  miserable.  The  load  of  my  sins  was  heavier 
and  heavier. 

"  All  that  I  had  ever  done,  came  plain  and  open  m  my 
sight,  and  I  was  led  to  see,  that  I  must  perish ;  there  was 
no  help  for  me ;  all  my  sin  was  upon  my  own  head." 

Such  is  the  miserable  criminal's  account  of  the  suffering 
to  which  he  was  brought,  by  the  sense  of  guilt  which  the 
Bible  was  the  means  of  fastening  upon  his  soul.  He  con- 
tinued in  this  state  for  some  time,  until  at  last  as  he  himself 
describes  it,  one  day  when  he  was  praying  in  his  cell,  his 
burden  of  guilt  was  removed.  He  felt  that  he  might  hope 
for  pardon  through  Jesus  Christ.  The  relief  which  this 
feeling  brought  over  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  almost  in- 
describable. Every  thing  wore  a  new  aspect ; — even  the 
gloomy  prison  seemed  a  cheerful  and  happy  place.  His 
expressions  of  joy  would  appear  almost  extravagant  to  an}* 
person  not  sufficiently  acquainted  with  the  human  mind  to 
understand  how  the  whole  aspect  of  external  objects  will  be 
controlled  by  the  emotions  which  reign  in  the  heart.  W. 
concluded  his  narration  in  these  words. 

"  And  ever  since  that,  master,  this  place,  where  I  have 
been  confined,  has  been  to  me  more  like  a  palace  than  a 
prison,  every  thing  goes  agreeable.  I  find  I  have  a  deceit- 
ful heart,  but  Jesus  tells  me,  if  I  lack  knowledge,  he  will  al- 
ways lend,  if  I  cast  my  care  on  Jesus  and  not  forget  to 
pray.  It  is  my  prayer  morning  and  evening  that  I  may 
hold  out.     If  I  die  here  let  me  die  Lord  in  thine  arms.     I 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY.  157 


Close  of  the  Convicts'  stories.     Charle.stown  State  Prison.     Old  Building. 

have  great  reason  to  bless  this  institution,  and  every  stone  in 
it." 

Now  although  it  is  not  very  common  to  obtain,  in  writing, 
accounts  of  changes  of  character  among  convicts,  so  full  and 
minute  as  this,  yet  the  cases  themselves  are  very  common, — so 
•common,  that  where  a  prison  is  regulated  in  such  a  manner 
that  the  prisoners  are  not  exposed  to  the  evil  influence  from 
each  other,  and  the  Bible  has  the  opportunity  to  try  its  pow- 
er, the  whole  aspect  of  the  prison  is  changed.  After  I  had 
written  the  above,  I  was  conversing  upon  the  subject  of  this 
chapter  with  a  gentleman  much  ii.terested  in  the  improve- 
ment of  prisons  and  he  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  visited  the 
prison  at  Charlestown,  Massachusetts.     I  told  him  I  had  not. 

"  If  you  will  go  over  with  me,  Sabbath  morning,  said  he, 
and  visit  the  Sabbath  School  formed  there,  you  will  see  the 
moral  power  of  the  Bible  far  more  distinctly  than  you  can 
by  any  such  single  descriptions  as  these." 

I,  of  course,  gladly  availed  myself  of  the  opportunity  to 
accompany  him.  We  walked  accordingly  on  Sabbath  morn- 
ing, at  the  appointed  hour,  over  one  of  those  long  bridges 
which  connect  the  Peninsula  of  Boston  with  the  main  land. 
The  prison  is  situated  in  Charlestown,  on  a  point  of  land 
near  the  Charles  river.  The  yard  extends  to  the  water's  edge 
to  afford  facihties  for  lading  and  unlading  the  boats  which 
transport  stone:  hammering  granite  for  building,  being  the 
principalbusiness  at  which  the  convicts  are  employed. 

When  we  reached  the  outer  gate  of  the  prison  3'ard,we  push- 
ed it  open,  and  on  closing  itself  after  we  had  entered,  it  struck 
a  bell,  which  gave  notice  to  the  keeper  of  the  inner  gf  te,  that 
some  one  was  coming.  This  inner  gate,  made  of  strong 
iron  bars,  was  opened  for  us,  and  we  passed  up  the  steps  of  a 
large  stone  building,  through  which  lay  our  passage  to  the 
yard  beyond.  This  building  consists  of  one  large  central 
edifice,  occupied  by  the  family  of  the  Warden,  and  by  some 
of  the  keepers,  and  two  extensive  wings.  In  these  wings 
the  prisoners  were  formerly  confined,  in  rooms  of  moderate 
size,  many  convicts,  however,  being  lodged  in  one  room. 
This  was  the  old  system  of  prison  discipline,  of  which  I  have 
already  spoken,  and  the  prisoners  almost  invariably  grew 
worse,  instead  of  better,  under  it.  A  young  man,  perhaps, 
just  beginning  a  career  of  vice,  or  overcome,  for  the  first 
time,  by  some  strong  temptation,  was  placed  during  the  long 
14 


158  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Crowded  night  rooms.  Arms.  Prison  yard.  Chapel. 

hours  of  the  night,  in  one  of  these  crowded  rooms.  Of  course 
he  grew  worse  by  such  an  exposure.  Those  who  had  grown 
old  ni  sin,  nistructed  him  ni  all  their  wicked  arts.  He  be- 
came familiarised  to  infamy — and  even  while  under  sen- 
tence for  one  crime,  often  formed  plans  for  others,  to  be  exe- 
cuted as  soon  as  he  should  escape  into  society  again.  The 
consequence  was,  that  these  night  rooms,  in  the  wmgs  of  this 
great  building,  were,  as  they  were  often  called,  schools  of 
vice  and  crime. 

The  first  room  we  entered  in  this  edifice,  seemed  to  be  a  sort 
of  an  office,  and  a  row  of  swords  and  guns,  which  were  ar- 
anged  there,ready  to  be  used  at  a  moment's  notice,  proclaimed 
the  intention  of  the  keepers  to  resort  to  the  most  decided  meas- 
ures if  the  prisoners  should  make  any  attempt  to  escape.  We 
passed  through  this  room,  and  one  or  two  others,  every  narrow 
passage  being  guarded  by  a  formidable  door  of  iron,  which  a 
turnkey  opened  and  shut  for  us  as  we  passed. 

We  entered  a  spacious  and  beautiful  yard  in  the  rear  of 
this  building.  I  say  it  was  beautiful,  because  it  struck  the 
eye  most  pleasantly  by  its  expression  of  neatness  and  indus- 
try. It  was  spacious,  and  extensive  shops  were  arranged 
around  it,  in  which  the  convicts  were  accustomed  to  work — 
and  upon  the  smooth  and  level,  floor,  I  had  almost  said,  of 
the  area  enclosed,  were  many  large  and  beautiful  blocks  of 
hammered  granite,  the  fruits  of  the  prisoners'  industry. 

We  waliced  across  the  yard  and  came  to  a  long  stone 
building,  one  story  high,  behind  which  rose  another  spacious 
edifice  of  stone.  In  this  last  were  the  prisoners'  cells.  I  am 
not  certain  that  I  shall  be  able  to  convey  to  my  young  read- 
ers a  very  accurate  idea  of  the  arrangement  and  of  the  in- 
terior of  these  buildings,  but  I  am  very  desirous  of  doing  so, 
as  it  will  give  them  clearer  ideas  of  what  I  intend  to  present 
in  regard  to  the  moral  aspects  of  such  an  institution  as  this. 
Will  3^ou  not,  then,  make  an  effort  to  picture  distinctly  to 
your  minds  what  I  am  describing  1 

The  long  low  building  which  I  have  mentioned,  had  a 
strong  iron  door  in  the  centre,  and  from  that  door  a  passage 
way  extended  across,  to  the  great  new"prison  beyond.  On 
one  side  of  this  ])assage  way,  Vas  a  large  room  appropriated 
to  preparing  food  for  the  prisoners,  and  on  the  other  side  was 
the  chapel.  When  we  came  up  to  the  iron  door  in  the  front 
of  the  building,  we  found  several  gentlemen  who  had  come 
over  from  Boston,  to  act  as  teachers  in  the  Sabbath  School, 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  159 

Prisoners  going'  to  Sabbath  School.    Aspect  of  the  School,   Prisoners'  dress. 

waiting  there  for  admission.  Tliey  were  waiting  until  the 
prisoners  tiieinselves  should  have  passed  into  the  Chapel,  for 
when  we  arrived  they  were  coming  m  a  long  processsion  from 
their  cells,  in  the  rear,  into  this  building,  each  one  bringing 
the  tin  vessel  from  which  he  had  eaten  his  breakfast,  and 
laying  it  upon  a  sort  of  counter,  as  he  passed  on  into  the 
Chapel.  We  could  see  this  by  looking  through  an  opening 
in  the  iron  door. 

When  all  the  prisoners  had  gone  into  the  Chapel,  the  outer 
door  was  opened  by  a  keeper,  and  we  all  passed  in, — the 
heavy  door  was  swung  to  behind  us,  and  its  strong  bolt  se- 
cured. We  turned  from  the  entry  into  that  end  of  the  build- 
ing which  was  used  as  a  chapel.  There  was  an  aisle  passing 
up  the  centre,  on  each  side  of  which  were  seats  half  filled 
with  the  convicts.  The  Chaplain  stood  in  a  pulpit  at  the 
farther  end,  and  on  each  side  of  him  were  the  teachers,  gen- 
tlemen from  Boston,  who  had  come  to  assist  these  unhappy 
men  to  read  and  to  understand  the  word  of  God. 

It  was  a  most  delightful  May  morning,  and  the  whole  as- 
pect of  the  room,  as  I  looked  over  it  from  my  stand  near  the 
Chaplain,  was  that  of  cheerfulness  and  happiness,  not  of 
gloom.  The  sun  beamed  in  brightly  at  the  windows, — and 
the  walls  of  the  room,  of  the  purest  white,  the  neat  benches, 
and  the  nicely  sanded  floor,  gave  a  most  pleasant  aspect  to 
the  whole. 

The  congregation  presented  a  singular  and  strikino- 
appearance.  Had  it  not  been  for  their  dress,  I  might  have 
forgotten  that  1  was  in  a  prison.  But  they  were  all  dressed 
in  coarse  clothes  of  two  colors,  one  side  of  the  body  bemo- 
red,  and  the  other  of  some  different  hue.  This  is  the  uni- 
form of  crime.  The  object  of  it  is,  I  suppose,  not  to  mortify 
them  with  a  perpetual  badge  of  disgrace,  but  to  expose  any 
one  who  should  by  any  means  escape,  to  immediate  detection 
by  the  inhabitants  of  the  country  around. 

"  Is  it  possible,  thought  I,  as  I  looked  over  this  most  inter- 
esting assembly,  that  all  these  men  have  come  voluntarily 
this  morning  to  read  and  study  the  word  of  God  ?  yes,  that 
was  the  fact.  This  exercise  was  entirely  voluntary,  and  out 
of  two  or  three  hundred  who  had  been  condemned  for  crime, 
about  one  half  were  accustomed  to  come  voluntarily  on  Sab- 
bath morning  to  study  the  book  which  proclaims  from  heaven 
fyee  for^^iveness  of  every  sin. 


160  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Exercises.  A  (Mass.  Conversation  with  a  coiivicl. 

The  Chaplain  opened  the  School  with  prayer.  He  then 
explained  to  the  teacheis,  that  the  plan  to  be  pursued  was 
simply  to  hear  the  prisoners  read  the  Bible,  and  explahi  its 
contents  to  them.  He  desired  them  to  confine  their  conver- 
sation strictly  to  the  business  in  hand,  and  requested  the  pris- 
oners not  to  ask,  and  the  teachers  not  to  answer  any  ques- 
tions relating  to  other  subjects.  He  then  distributed  the 
teachers  around  the  room,  giving  each  one  a  small  class. 
Three  convicts  fell  to  my  charge. 

I  opened  almost  at  random  in  the  New  Testament  and  let 
them  read  in  rotation  ;  and  more  apparently  humble  and  do- 
cile students  of  the  Bible,  I  never  saw.  They  read  slowly 
and  with  hesitation,  and  I  thought  at  first,  with  a  little  em- 
barrassment ;  this,  however,  soon  passed  away,  and  it  w^as 
most  interesting  to  watch  the  eager  expression  upon  their 
countenances  as  the  various  truths,  which  were  such  glad 
tidings  to  them,  came  to  view.  We  came  almost  accidental- 
ly to  the  parables  of  the  one  sheep  and  the  one  piece  of  mo- 
ney which  was  lost,  Luke  xv,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
whole  chapter  was  written  expressly  for  prisoners. 

One  of  these  convicts,  after  expressing  a  strong  interest  in 
these  parables,  said  that  the  Bible  appeared  like  a  very  dif- 
ferent book  to  him  now,  from  what  it  did  in  former  times. 

"  How  did  it  formerly  appear  to  you  ?"   asked  I. 

"  Oh,  I  used  to  despise  it.  I  used  to  wonder  why  so  much 
was  made  of  the  Bible.  It  seemed  to  me  that  I  could  write 
as  good  a  book  myself"  ^ 

"  Well,  have  your  views  of  it  changed,  now  ?" 

'•'  Oh,  yes,"  said  he  "  I  am  fully  persuaded  it  is  the  word  of 
God,  now." 

'■What  caused  you  to  disbelieve  it,  formerly?  was  it  the 
influence  of  bad  company  ?" 

"  Why,  sir,  to  be  frank,  it  was  ignorance.  I  had  not  stud- 
ied it.  I  had  read  it  a  little,  here  and  there,  but  not  atten- 
tively, or  with  a  right  spirit." 

"  What  led  you  to  change  your  views  of  it  ?" 

"  I  did  not  change  my  views,  until  I  came  to  this  institu- 
tion. I  had  seme  days  of  solitary  confinement  when  I  first 
came,  with  no  book  but  the  Bible, — and  when  I  first  began 
to  reflect,  I  recollected  that  a  Christian  family,  whom  I  once 
lived  with,  seemed  to  enjoy  more  real,  substantial  happiness, 
than  any  other  persons  I  ever  saw ;  and  this  led  me  to  think 
there  might  possibly  be  something  in  religion.     So  I  thought 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  161 

Power  of  the  Bible.  Reformation  of  prisoners.  Cases  numerous. 

I  would  examine  the  Bible,  in  earnest,  and  I  found  it  a  very 
different  book  from  what  I  had  supposed.  I  took  a  very 
strong  interest  ni  it,  and  at  last  a  minister  preached  a  sermon 
here  from  the  text,  "  what  shall  I  do  to  inherit  eternal  life," 
and  that  I  hope  led  me  to  the  Saviour.  I  hope  and  trust 
that  I  have  really  given  my  heart  to  God." 

I  told  him  that  what  he  said  gave  me  great  pleasure,  and 
that  I  hoped  he  would  persevere  in  Christian  duty,  and  find 
the  Bible  a  source  of  happiness  to  him  as  long  as  he  should 
live. 

"  When  I  first  came  to  this  institution,"  he  replied,  "  I 
thought  it  was  rather  a  hard  case  to  be  shut  up  here  so  long. 
My  time  is,  however,  now  almost  out.  In  a  few  weeks  I 
shall  go  away,  but  if  I  have  really  been  led  to  see  and  for- 
sake my  sins,  I  shall  never  have  any  reason  to  regret  coming 
here." 

The  Chaplain  about  this  time  gave  notice,  that  it  was 
time  for  the  services  to  be  closed,  and  I  could  not  converse 
with  my  other  scholars  much.  One  of  them  told  me,  however, 
that  he  had  been  brought  up  by  pious  parents,  and  had  read 
the  Bible  when  he  was  a  child  ;  "  it  was,  however,"  said  he, 
"  only  to  please  my  parents.  I  gave  no  heed  to  it.  I  have 
found  it,  since  I  came  to  this  institution,  a  very  diflTerent 
book." 

I  afterwards  learned  that  there  was  as  much  reason 
as,  under  the  circumstances,  there  could  be,  to  hope  that  all 
ihree  of  these  criminals  had  really  repented  of  sin,  and  made 
their  peace  with  God,  and  that  they  would  return  to  society 
to  be  useful  and  happy  while  they  live,  and  admitted  to  hea- 
ven when  they  die. 

Such  cases  as  these,  too,  are  becoming  very  numerous  in 
prisons  where  the  convicts  are  separated  from  each  other  and 
exposed  to  the  influence  of  the  word  of  God.  Since  this 
plan  has  been  adopted  in  this  very  prison,  the  results  have 
iDcen  most  decisive.  The  number  of  prisoners  and  especially 
of  recommitments  is  very  much  reduced,  and  the  whole 
number  of  convicts,  which  was  formerly  375,  has  been  re- 
duced under  the  operation  of  this  system  to  225,  and  is  now 
constantly  reducing. 

But  I  must  proceed  with  the  description  of  my  visit.  At 
the  close  of  the  Sabbath  School,  the  convicts  who  had  at- 
tended it,  marched  out,  and  presently  returned  with  all  the 
other  prisoners  in  a  long  procession,  to  attend  public  worship. 
*U 


162  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

Temperance  sermon  in  Prison.  Marching-  lo  the  cells. 

They  tilled  the  chapel.  The  preacher  addressed  them  on  the 
subject  of  temperance, — and  as  he  explained  to  them  the  na- 
ture of  ardent  spirit,  and  the  consequences  of  its  use,  they 
listened  with  the  most  eager  and  uninterrupted  attention. 
Each  had  his  Bible  under  his  arm, — his  only  companion  in 
his  solitary  cell, — and  it  was  evident,  I  thought,  from  the 
countenances  of  the  whole  assembly,  that  in  the  hour  of 
stillness  and  solitude,  it  had  been  at  work  upon  the  conscience 
of  many  a  hardened  sinner  there.  It  seemed  impossible  for 
a  man  to  look  upon  that  assembly,  understanding  their  cir- 
cumstances, and  knowing  how  exclusively  the  Bible  had 
been  used,  as  the  means  of  restoring  them  to  moral  health, 
and  how  successful  it  had  been,  and  yet  doubt  whether  the 
book  was  really  sent  from  above. 

After  the  meeting  was  closed,  the  prisoners  marched  by 
divisions,  in  regular  order,  each  under  the  care  of  a  keeper, 
back  to  the  great  building  in  the  rear,  which  contained  their 
cells.  As  they  passed  through  the  entry,  each  one  took  from 
the  place  where  it  was  deposited,  a  tin  vessel  containing  his 
evening  meal,  and  they  marched  in  long  procession  to  their 
silent  and  solitary  dwellings.  We  followed  them  into  the 
building.  Its  construction  is  peculiar,  and  as  it  is  similar  to 
those  now  almost  universally  built  for  prisoners,  I  shall  de- 
scribe it. 

It  contains  a  building  within  a  building, — the  outer  one 
being  a  mere  shell,  consisting  of  four  walls  and  a  roof,  with 
rows  of  narrow  grated  windows  in  its  sides.  The  inner 
i>ui]ding  is  distinct  and  independent,  with  a  passage  several 
feet  wide  all  around,  between  it  and  the  outer  walls.  This 
inner  building  is  simply  a  block  of  cells,  four  or  live  stories 
high,  arranged  back  to  back,  so  that  the  doors  open  on  each 
side  into  the  passage  way  I  have  already  described.  The 
doors,  however,  of  the  lower  story  only,  can  be  entered  from 
the  floor  of  the  passage  way  itself,  and  to  gain  access  to  the 
others,  long  narrow  galleries,  supported  by  iron  pillars,  pro- 
ject from  every  story.  A  staircase  at  one  end,  leads  the 
way  to  these. 

There  were  no  windows  to  the  cells  except  a  grated  open- 
ing in  the  narrow  but  heavy  iron  door.  And  this,  it  will  be 
perceived  did  not  furnish  an  access  to  the  open  air,  for  the 
outer  building  entirely  enclosed  the  inner,  like  a  case.  Suffi- 
cient light,  however,  found  its  way  through  the  outer  win- 
dows, and  thence  through  the  grated  door,  to  cheer  the  pris- 


EVIDENCES  OF   CHRISTIANITY.  163 

Locking  up.  Construclion  of  the  cells. 

oner  a  little  in  his  solitude,  and  to  allow  him  to  read  the 
pages  of  the  word  of  God. 

When  we  came  into  the  passage  way  below,  the  trains  of 
prisoners  were  passing  along  the  galleries,  and  entering,  one 
after  another,  their  respective  cells.  Each  one  closed  after 
him  the  massive  door,  and  there  was  something  peculiarly 
solemn  and  impressive  in  the  heavy  sound,  produced  in  reg- 
ular succession,  as  door  after  door  closed  upon  the  unfortunate 
inmate.  The  keepers  passed  along  after  each  prisoner  of  his 
division  had  entered  his  cell,  and  locked  them  in,  and  after 
the  last  party-colored  dress  had  disappeared,  and  the  last  bolt 
sounded  to  its  place,  the  keepers,  one  after  another,  returned, 
and  all  was  silence  and  apparent  solitude. 

Though  it  was  now  the  middle  of  a  bright  May  afternoon, 
it  was  but  twilight  within  these  walls ; — the  twilight  of  a 
prison : — and  so  still,  that  one  could  hardly  realise  that, 
within  the  sound  of  his  voice,  more  than  two  hundred  crim- 
inals were  confined.  And  yet  they  were  within  the  sound 
of  one  voice.  For  the  construction  of  the  building  is  such 
that  every  prisoner  can  hear  the  Chaplain  when  conducting 
religious  services  in  the  passage  way.  He  stands  there,  not 
seeing  an  individual  whom  he  addresses, — nothing  before  him 
but  the  cold  repulsive  aspect  of  the  granite  walls  and  floor, 
and  pillars,  doors  and  locks  of  iron, — and  reads  the  chapter, 
and  offers  the  evening  prayer  in  the  hearing  of  hundreds  ; — 
and  each  prisoner,  alone  in  his  cell,  seated  upon  his  little 
bench,  hears,  through  the  grated  window,  the  voice  of  one 
unseen,  explaining  to  him  the  word  of  God,  or  guiding  him 
in  his  supplications  for  the  forgiveness  of  his  sins,  and  pre- 
paration for  heaven. 

As  we  stood  contemplating  this  scene,  one  of  the  officers  of 
the  prison,  standing  there,  said  to  my  companion, 

"  How  different  this,  from  what  we  used  to  see  and  hear  in 
the  old  prison." 

"  Has  there  been,"  asked  I,  "  a  very  decided  change  in  the 
aspect  of  the  prisoners,  since  their  removal  to  this  building?" 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  he,  "  every  thing  is  changed.  Why,  when 
they  occupied  the  old  building  and  were  locked  up,  several 
together,  in  a  room,  there  was  nothing  but  cursing  and  swear- 
ing, and  riot,  and  quarrelling  and  blasphemy,  to  be  heard  all 
night.  How  they  would  rave  against  religion  and  the  Bible 
and  ministers.     Nothing  would  have  tempted  me  to  have 


164  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Armed  keeper.  The  Bible  the  means. 

staid  in  the  prison,  if  that  slate  of  things  had  continued. 
Now  it  is  a  quiet  and  peaceful  family." 

We  passed  out  last.  A  keeper,  with  a  sword  at  his  side, 
and  a  pistol  at  his  belt,  closed  and  locked  the  door  after  us, 
and  we  passed  through  the  yard,  and  through  the  great  edi- 
fice which  I  first  described,  out  beyond  the  prison  walls,  and 
returned  to  our  homes. 

Now  if  there  was  any  one  thing  which  stood  forth  to  view 
in  all  this  scene,  more  distinctly  and  vividly  than  all  the  rest, 
it  was  that  these  effects  were  the  work  of  the  Bible.  The  very 
essence  of  the  whole  system  is  simply  to  cut  off  the  bad  in- 
fluences which  would  otherwise  gain  access  to  the  prisoner, 
and  lay  before  him  the  Bible.  This  was  done  with  kindness 
and  sympathy,  indeed,  but  still  the  word  of  God  was,  most 
evidently,  the  remedy  which  was  applied.  The  prisoners 
came  to  their  place  of  worship,  with  their  Bibles  in 
their  hands, — the  teachers  in  the  Sabbath  School  confined 
their  efforts  to  reading  and  explaining  the  sacred  book — 
and  it  was  affecting  to  observe,  that,  as  they  went  to 
their  solitary  cells,  they  found  there,  the  word  of  God  for 
their  only  companion.  So  unquestionable  is  the  moral  power 
of  this  book,  that  the  very  authorities  of  the  State,  actuated 
simply  by  a  desire  to  save  the  community  from  the  injuries 
of  wicked  men,  place  a  Bible,  at  the  public  expense,  in  the 
cell  of  every  convict  committed  for  crime. 

Those  little  cells,  so  small  that  the  narrow  bed,  when  let 
down  at  night,  leaves  the  prisoner  scarce  room  to  stand, — 
destitute  of  almost  every  comfort, — and  showing  by  their 
whole  aspect,  that  their  design  is  to  connect  the  most  gloomy 
associations  possible,  with  the  idea  of  crime — every  one  of 
those  narrow  and  naked  cells,  must  have  its  Bible.  Every 
legislator  knows  that  that  is  the  book  to  call  back  the  guilty 
criminal  from  his  sins.  And  though  men  may,  in  specula- 
tion, deny  its  authority  and  question  its  influence,  in  practice, 
when  they  wish  to  awaken  conscience  in  the  abandoned,  and 
to  recall  them  so  far  at  least  to  duty  that  society  may  be  safe 
from  their  crimes,  they  are  unanimous  in  invoking  its  aid. 

But  I  must  return  to  the  two  convicts'  stories.  I  did  not 
intend  to  have  digressed  so  far  from  them  My  readers  are 
requested  to  recal  those  narratives  to  mind,  for  I  wish  to  an- 
alyse them  a  little,  that  I  may  present  more  distinctly  the 
nature  of  the  process,  by  which  convalescence  and  ultimata 
health  returns  to  a  sin-sick  soul :  for  I  wish  to  consider  these 


EVIDENCES    OF  CHRISTIANITY.  ,  165 

Analysis  of  the  Convicts'  stories.     1.  Hible  llie  means.     2.  Sins  against  God. 

not  in  the  light  of  detached  and  separate  instances,  but  as 
fair  specimens  of  cases  which  are  constantly  occurring  by 
tens  of  thousands  in  every  christian  land. 

I  should  like  to  have  you  notice  the  following  points  which 
are  brought  to  view  by  those  narratives. 

1.  The  Bible  was  the  means  of  the  change.  One  of  the 
convicts  said  he  had  no  proper  views  of  the  Scriptures  till  he 
came  to  the  prison.  The  other  could  not  read  them  at  all, 
and  it  was  plainly  by  means  of  this  book  that  they  were 
brought  to  understand  their  true  characters.  So  at  Charles- 
town.  The  whole  plan  of  moral  influence  consisted  in 
bringing,  in  a  kind  and  sympathising  manner,  the  truths  of 
the  word  of  God  to  those  minds.  I  was  told  by  one  of  the 
teachers  who  was  present  at  the  time  of  my  visit,  that  he 
had  in  his  class  a  convict  who  had  been  repeatedly  mipris- 
oned,  having  been  confined  once  or  twice  in  the  old  building, 
iiig.  "  And,"  said  he,  "  it  only  made  me  worse.  But  now, 
there  is  a  new  state  of  things.  When  I  came  to  this  prison 
I  found  nothing  but  my  Bible,  and  I  believe  it  has  made  me 
a  new  man."  The  gentleman  who  had  taught  that  class, 
said  that  he  gave  every  evidence  which  could  be  given  in  so 
short  an  interview,  of  being  a  humbled,  altered  man. 

2.  Men  are  lei  to  see  that  their  sins  are  againH  God?' 
This  3^ou  will  perceive  to  be  very  strikingly  the  case  from  a 
review  of  the  convicts'  stories.  And  this  is  one  of  the  great 
peculiarities  of  the  Scriptures.  They  lead  us  to  see  that  we 
owe  obligations  to  our  Maker ;  a  truth  that  is  always  neg- 
lected or  forgotten  till  the  Bible  brings  it  to  view. 

But  what  is  the  meaning  of  our  sins  being  against  God  ? 
I  once  knew  a  boy  so  abandoned  to  evil  passions,  and  so  ut- 
terly destitute  of  moral  principle,  that  he  set  fire  to  his  moth- 
er's house,  in  a  fit  of  anger  with  her,  for  some  reproof  or 
punishment.  I  do  not  know  whether  he  intended  to  burn  it 
entirely,  or  whether  he  expected  that  the  fire  would  be  extin- 
guished, and  he  should  thus  only  frighten  his  mother.  A 
great  deal  of  injury  was,  in  fact,  done  by  the  fire,  which 
was,  however,  at  last  extinguished.  Nowtheboy  very  prob- 
ably supposed  that  this  offence  was  agamst  his  mother 
alone.  He  had  supposed  that  she  would  be  displeased,  and 
would  attempt  to  punish  him.  He  knew  that  he  was  re- 
sponsible to  her  authority  and  thought  of  nothing  more. 

How  surprised,  then,  would  he  be,  if  some  friend  of  his, 
after  he  had  done  this,  should  converse  with  him  as  follows ; 


166  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Story  of  the  incendiary.  Ignorance  of  the  law  ot  the  land. 

"  Do  jou  know  what  you  have  done  ?" 

"  Yes,  I  set  mother's  house  on  fire." 

"  And  what  do  you  expect  will  be  the  consequence'?" 

"Why,  perhaps  she  will  punish  me,  but  I  don't  care  for 
that." 

"  I  think  you  will  find  that  that  is  not  the  worst  of  it." 

"  What  is  the  worst  of  it  ?" 

"  Why  you  have  broken  the  law  of  the  land,  and  I  expect 
every  hour  that  the  officers  will  be  after  you  to  take  you  up." 

"  The  officers  !" — says  the  boy,  astonished  and  alarmed — 
"  I  did  n't  know  any  thing  about  the  law  of  the  land." 

"  There  is  a  law  of  the  land  you  will  fi.nd,  and  you  have 
hroken  it,  and  l\\ey  will  have  you  tried  and  put  in  State's 
Prison  for  it." 

At  this  the  boy  would,  perhaps,  pause,  and  turn  pale,  and 
his  next  word  would,  probably,  either  be,  "  I  don't  believe  it," 
or  else  "  What  shall  1  do."  Perhaps  he  would  attempt  to 
excuse  himself  by  saying, 

"  I  did  not  know  that  it  was  against  any  law, — I  only  did 
it  to  plague  my  mother." 

"  That  makes  no  difference,"  his  friend  would  reply,  "  it 
will  not  help  you  at  all.  The  law  of  every  community  is, 
and  ought  to  be,  very  decided  against  incendiaries,  because 
as  you  well  know,  when  you  set  fire  to  yonx  house,  you  en- 
dangered the  others  near,  and,  in  fact,  the  whole  village.  As 
to  your  not  knowing  that  it  was  against  the  law,  that  makes 
no  difference.     You  kneic  that  it  was  lorongP 

I  do  not  know  whether  this  boy  learned  that  he  had  bro- 
ken the  law  and  was  in  great  danger  of  punishment,  by  any 
such  conversation  as  the  above.  I  know,  however,  that  he 
learned  it  in  some  way,  and  he  fled.  He  escaped  to  a  distant 
city,  but  the  officers  found  him  there,  and  I  saw  him  after- 
wards confined  in  his  cell. 

Now  when  men  sin  in  this  world,  they  almost  always  for- 
get the  very  important  circumstance,  that  they  are  s'mning 
against  Gnd.  They  look  upon  their  offences  as  committed 
solely  against  their  fellow  men.  They  feel,  sometimes,  a 
little  compunction,  in  regard  to  those  few  cases  where  their 
conduct  has  injured  their  fellows.  They  never  consider 
these  as  offences  against  a  fiir  higher  law, — and  as  to  all 
their  other  conduct,  they  feel  entirely  at  ease  in  regard  to  it. 

Now  the  Bible  comes  in,  in  such  cases,  and  where  its  voice 
is  heeded,  it  holds  with  men  much  such  a  conversation  as 
that  which  I  have  described  with  the  bov. 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  167 

Voice  of  the  Bible.  3.  Feeling  awakened. 

"  Do  you  know,"  it  says,  to  one  who  has  been  hving  an  ir- 
religious Hfe  for  many  years,  "what  you  have  been  doing?" 

"  Yes,"  he  rephes,  "  I  have  very  often  done  wrong.  I  have 
sometimes  been  idle  and  sometime  a  little  passionate,  but  then 
I  have  endeavored  to  make  up  for  lost  time  by  subsequent 
industry,  and  I  have  always  repaired  all  the  injuries  of  every 
kind,  that  I  have  done  to  others.  On  the  whole,  I  have  been 
a  good  neighbor,  and  an  honest  man.  I  have  been  kind  in 
my  family,  and  upright  as  a  citizen." 

"  Ah  !"  says  the  Eible,  "do  you  not  know  that  there  is  a 
God,  and  that  by  utterly  neglecting  him  you  have  been  all 
the  time  unceasingly  breaking  his  laio  ?  You  have  been 
living  for  yourself  detached  and  separate  from  all  around 
you,  except  so  far  as  your  interests  or  instinctive  feelings  have 
formed  a  frail  tie.  What  a  divided  and  miserable  commu- 
nity would  be  the  result,  if  all  God's  creatures  were  to  act 
upon  the  same  principle." 

"Besides,"  continues  the  word  of  God,  "the  sins  which 
3''0u  acknowledge  that  you  have  committed,  and  which 
you  seem  to  consider  as  chiefly  against  men,  are  in  a  far 
higher  sense  against  God.  They  have  been  violations  of  his 
law,  and  he  has  annexed  a  most  awful  penalty  to  such  trans- 
gressions. In  fact,  it  is  possible  that  some  of  his  officers  are 
now  sent  for  you,  to  summon  you  to  trial  and  condemnation 
for  your  sins. ' 

Thus  men  are  led  to  see  by  the  Bible  what  law  they  have 
broken,  and  what  punishment  they  have  to  fear.  The  con- 
vict whose  conversation  I  have  given  above,  saw,  as  he  ex- 
presses it,  that  all  his  sins  had  been  "  against  GodV 

3.  The  Bible  makes  7ne /I  F-EEL  their  guilt.  Undoubtedly 
many  of  my  readers  will  go  over  the  explanation  I  have  just 
given  of  our  connexion  with  God,  and  of  the  fact  that  all  our 
sins  are  against  him,  very  carelessly.  I  do  not  mean  that 
they  will  not  be  interested  in  the  mere  reading.  I  mean  that 
they  will  not  realise  the  truth,  in  its  application  to  them. 
Nothing  is  more  common  than  for  persons  to  see  and  to  ac- 
knowledge the  truths  I  have  detcribed,  without  feeling  any 
compunction  for  their  guilt.  But  the  Bible  arouses  conscience. 
It  is  "  quick  and  powerful,  sharper  than  any  two  edged 
sword,  piercing  even  to  the  dividing  asunder  the  soul  and 
spirit." 

It  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  properties  of  the  human 
mind,  that  a  consciousness  of  guilt  may  remain  a  long  time 


168  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


A  slumbering  sense  of  guilt.  Sin  will  sling  at  last. 

dormant  in  it, — producing  no  uneasiness  and  no  suffering, — 
and  yet  after  the  lapse  of  years  it  will  burst  forth  with  most 
terrific  power,  and  drive  the  victim  of  it  to  actual  despair. 
This  has  often  been  the  case.  A  man  who  has  committed 
sin  is  like  one  bitten  by  a  mad  dog.  The  momentary 
pain  is  slight.  The  wound  soon  heals.  It  may  keep  up  from 
time  to  time,  a  slight  irritation,  just  enough  to  remind  him 
occasionally  of  the  occurrence ;  but  ordinarily  it  is  forgotten, 
and  he  goes  on  with  his  dail}^  amusements  and  pleasures, 
entirely  unconscious  of  danger. 

But  though  the  wound  is  healed,  the  dreadful  infection 
which  it  has  admitted  to  his  system  is  circulating  insidiously 
there.  The  poison  glides  harmlessly  along  his  veins  and 
arteries  for  weeks,  months,  years.  It  does  not  mar  his  enjoy- 
ments or  disturb  his  repose,  but  still  the  dreadful  enemy, 
though  slumbering,  is  there.  At  last,  in  some  unexpected 
hour,  it  rises  upon  him  in  all  its  strength,  and  overwhelms 
and  conquers  him  entirely.  It  brings  agony  to  his  bodj^  and 
indescribable  horror  to  his  soul,  and  hurries  him  through  the 
most  furious  paroxysms  of  madness  and  despair,  to  inevita- 
ble death. 

And  it  is  just  so  with  sin.  A  murderer,  for  example,  will 
often  slumber  ten,  twenty,  or  thirty  years  over  his  crime.  The 
knowledge  of  it  will  lie  in  his  heart,  like  a  lurking  poison, 
during  all  that  time.  He  will  recollect  it  without  anxiety 
or  compunction,  and  look  forward  to  the  future  without  alarm. 
At  last,  however,  some  circumstance,  often  apparently  tri- 
fling, will  awaken  him.  He  will  begin  to  feel  his  guilt : 
conscience  will  suddenly  rise  upon  him  like  an  armed  man, 
and  overwhelm  him  with  all  the  horrors  of  remorse  and  de- 
spair. Perhaps  if  one  had  tried  a  few  weeks  before,  to  make 
him  feel  his  guilt,  it  would  have  been  vain,  he  was  so  utterly 
hardened  in  it ;  so  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins.  But  now  you 
will  find  it  far  more  difficult  to  allay  or  to  mitigate  the  storm 
which  has,  perhaps,  spontaneously  arisen. 

Every  person,  therefore,  who  commits  sin,  takes  a  viper  into 
his  bosom,  a  viper  which  may  delay  stinging  him  for  many 
years,  but  it  null  ^ting  him,  at  last,  unless  it  is  removed.  He 
is  unaware  of  the  misery  which  awaits  him,  but  it  must  come 
notwithstanding.  This  is  particularly  the  case  with  sins 
against  God ;  and  the  wonder  is  that  the  sense  of  guilt  will 
remain  so  entirely  dormant  as  it  often  does,  so  that  no  warn- 
ing, no  expostulation,  no  remonstrance  will  disturb  the  death- 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  169 

4.    The  Saviour.  Penance.  Forgiveness  on  mere  penitence. 

like  repose,  and  yet  at  last  the  volcano  will  often  burst  forth 
spontaneously,  or  from  some  apparently  triflnig  cause,  and 
overwhelm  the  sinner  in  suffering. 

Now  we  certanily  should  not  wish  that  this  suffering- 
should  come  upon  any  individual,  were  it  not,  that  ni  a  vast 
multitude  of  cases,  it  leads  him  to  repent  of  and  to  forsake 
his  sins.  Remorse  is  not  penitence,  it  is  true,  but  it  very 
frequently  leads  to  it. 

4.  Tke  Bible  leads  men  to  a  Saviour.  Men  every  where 
have  the  impression  that  penitence  is  not  enough  to  remove 
and  expiate  guilt.  Whenever  we  do  wrong,  there  is  implant- 
ed, as  it  were,  in  the  very  soul,  a  fearful  looking  forward  to 
punishment  to  come,  in  consequence  of  it.  We  know  that 
no  government  can  be  efficiently  maintained,  where  its  set- 
tled, regular  plan,  is  to  forgive  always  upon  confession. 
Now  it  is  found,  by  universal  experience,  and  the  cases  I 
have  narrated  happily  illustrate  this,  that  when  men  are 
really  brought  to  feel  their  sins  against  God,  they  cannot  be 
quieted  by  any  general  assurances,  that  God  is  merciful. 
They  know  he  is  merciful,  but  then  they  know  he  is  just. 
They  know  he  is  the  great  moral  Governor  of  the  Universe, 
and  the  youngest  child,  or  the  most  ignorant  savage,  has  an 
instinct,  I  might  almost  call  it,  which  so  assures  him  of  the 
necessity  of  a  retribution,  that  he  cannot  rest  after  a  repeated 
disobedience,  in  the  hope  that  his  penitenr^  alone  will  secure 
his  pardon.  Hence,  in  all  unchristian  countries  they  have 
various  ways  of  doing  penance,  that  is,  inflicting  severe  vol- 
untary suffering  upon  themselves,  by  way  of  retribution  for 
their  sins.  Now  when  men,  under  such  circumstances  hear 
that  a  Saviour  has  died  for  them,  it  immediately  brings  relief. 
It  is  very  often  the  case  that  there  is  not  a  very  clear  idea  of 
the  way  in  which  his  sufferings  are  of  avail  in  opening  the 
way  for  pardon.  In  fact  it  is  not  absolutely  necessary  that 
there  shoukl  be  very  clear  ideas  on  this  subject.  The  mind, 
however  darkened  and  ignorant  is  capable  of  seeing,that  these 
sufferings  may,  in  some  way,  stop  the  evil  consequences  of 
its  sins,  and  open  the  way  for  pardon,  and  yet  not  fully  un- 
derstand in  all  their  detail,  the  various  moral  influences  which 
the  crucifixion  of  the  Son  of  God  is  calculated  to  produce. 

My  reader,  do  you  feel  a  secret  but  continual  burden  from  a 
sense  of  your  sins.  Try  the  experiment  of  coming  and  ask- 
ing forgiveness  in  the  Saviour's  name,  and  see  if  it  does  not 
bring  relief. 

15 


170  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Story  of  Reg^lus.  War  between  Rome  and  Carthage.  Regulus  as  ambassador. 

I  suppose  the  most  of  my  readers  remember  the  story  of 
Regulus.  The  ancient  cities  of  Rome  and  Carthage  stood 
opposite  to  each  other,  across  the  Mediterranean  sea.  As 
these  two  cities  grew  up  to  power  and  distinction  nearly  to- 
gether, they  were  the  rivals  and  enemies  of  each  other. 
There  was  many  a  hard  fought  battle  between  their  armies 
and  their  fleets. 

At  last,  Regulus,  a  celebrated  Roman  General,  was  sent 
across  the  sea,  to  carry  the  war,  if  possible,  to  the  very  gates  of 
Carthage.  He  was  at  first  very  successful,  and  he  took  many 
prisoners  and  sent  them  to  Rome.  At  length,  however,  th« 
scale  was  turned,  the  Roman  armj^  was  conquered,  and  Reg- 
ulus himself  was  captured  and  thrown  into  a  Carthagenian 
prison. 

After  some  time,  however,  had  elapsed,  the  Carthagenians, 
foreseeing  that  the  Roman  power  would,  ni  the  end,  over- 
whelm their  own,  concluded  to  send  an  embassy  to  Rome  to 
propose  peace.  They  proposed  to  Regulus  to  go  on  this  em- 
bassy. They  entmsted  him  with  the  commission,  saying  to 
him,  "We  wish  you  would  go  to  Rome,  and  propose  to  your 
countrymen  to  make  peace  with  us,  and  endeavor  to  persuade 
them  to  comply.  If  you  do  not  succeed,  however,  we  ex- 
pect you  to  return  to  us  again  as  our  lawful  prisoner.  We 
shall  confide  in  your  word." 

Regulus  accepted  the  trust.  He  set  off  to  Rome,  promis- 
ing to  return  to  Carthage,  if  the  Romans  should  not  accede 
to  the  peace.  He  sailed  across  the  sea,  and  up  the  Tiber, 
and  was  soon  approaching  the  gates  of  the  great  city.  He 
had  determined,  however,  to  do  all  in  his  power  to  preyent  a 
peace,  knowing  that  it  would  not  be  for  the  interest  of  his 
country  to  make  one.  He  understood,  therefore,  that  he  was 
going  to  his  native  city  only  to  communicate  his  message, 
and  then  to  return  to  imprisonment,  torture  and  death,  at 
Carthage. 

His  wife  came  out  of  the  gates  to  meet  him, — rejoicing 
in  his  return.  He  received  her,  dejected,  silent  and  sad.  "  I 
am  a  Carthagenian  prisoner  still,"  said  he,  "  and  must  soon 
return  to  my  chains." 

He  refused  to  enter  the  city.  He  had,  indeed,  a  message 
for  the  Senato,  but  the  Roman  Senate  was  not  accustomed 
to  admit  foreigners  to  their  sessions,  within  the  city.  He  sent 
them  word,  therefore,  that  Regulus,  no  longer  a  Roman  gen- 
eral, but  a  Carthagenian  prisoner,  was  the  bearer  of  a  mes- 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  171 

Meeting  of  the  Senate.  Death  of  Kegulus.  Cruel  retaliation. 

sage  to  them,  and  wished  them  to  hold,  as  usual,  a  meeting 
without  the  gates,  for  the  purpose  of  receiving  it. 

The  Senate  came.  They  heard  the  proposal  which  the 
Carthagenians  sent  and  the  arguments  of  Regulus  against  it. 
The  ai'guments  prevailed.  They  decided  against  peace,  and 
Regulus  began  to  speak  of  his  return. 

"  Return !"  said  his  friends  and  the  Senators,  and  all  the 
people  of  Rome.  "  You  are  under  no  obligation  to  return 
to  Carthage," 

"  I  promised  to  return,  said  Regulus,  and  I  must  keep  my 
word.  I  am  well  aware  that  the  disappointed  and  exasper- 
ated Carthagenians  will  mflict  upon  me  cruel  tortures,  but  I 
am  their  prisoner  still,  and  I  must  keep  my  word." 

The  Romans  did  all  in  their  power  to  persuade  Regulus 
that  a  proiuise  extorted  under  such  circumstances,  was  not 
binding,  and  that  he  cotild  be  under  no  obligations  to  return. 
But  all  was  vain.  He  bade  the  Senate^  and  his  coun- 
trymen, and  his  wife  farewell,  and  was  soon  sailing  back  to 
the  land  of  his  enemies.  The  Carthagenians  were  enraged 
at  the  result  of  his  mission,  They  put  him  to  death  by  the 
most  cruel  tortures. 

When  the  tidings  of  his  death  came  back  to  Rome,  the 
Senate  and  the  people,  who  had  already  been  much  impressed 
by  the  patriotism  of  Regulus,  and  his  firm  adherence  to  his 
word,  were  overwhelmed  with  admiration  and  gratitude.  This 
feeling  was  mixed,  too,  with  a  strong  desire  of  revenge  upon 
the  Carthagenians,  and  a  decree  was  passed  giving  up  the 
Carthagenian  prisoners  then  in  their  hands,  to  Marcia,  the 
wife  of  Regulus,  to  be  disposed  of  as  she  might  desire.  She, 
most  unjustly  and  cruelly,  ordered  them  all  to  be  put  to  death, 
by  the  same  sufferings  which  her  lamented  husband  had 
endured. 

My  story,  thus  far,  is  true.  That  is,  it  is  substantially 
tme.  The  dialogue  I  have  given,  is  intended  to  exhibit  the 
substance  of  what  was  said ;  not  the  exact  words.  The 
facts,  however,  are  correctly  stated.  The  whole  occurrence, 
as  above  described,  is  matter  of  history. 

In  order,  however,  to  make  the  use  of  this  story  which  I 
have  intended,  I  must  now  go  on  in  fiction.  I  will  suppose 
that  Marcia,  instead  of  desiring  to  gratify  a  revengeful  spirit, 
by  destroying  the  lives  of  the  innocent  prisoners  at  Rome,  in 
retaliation  for  the  murder  of  her  husband,  had  been  actuated 
by  a  nobler  spirit  and   had   sent  such  a  message  as  this 


172  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Supposed  case.  Forgiveness  of  criminals  for  Regulus'  sake. 

to  the  Roman  Senate,  in  reply  to  their  proposal  to  her, 

"  I  do  not  wish  for  revenge.  It  will  do  little  good,  either 
to  Regulus,  who  is  dead,  or  to  his  nnhappy  widow  who  sur- 
vives, to  torture  or  to  destroy  the  miserable  captives  in  our 
hands.  Dispose  of  them  as  the  good  of  the  State  requires. 
If  you  think,  however,  that  any  thing  is  due  from  the  com- 
monwealth to  the  memory  of  Regulus,  or  to  his  surviving 
friends,  let  it  be  paid  in  happiness,  not  in  suffering.  There 
are,  in  the  public  prisons,  many  miserable  convicts  condemn- 
ed for  their  crimes.  Let  them  be  forgiven  for  Regulus'  sake, 
if  they  will  acknowledge  their  crimes  and  return  to  their 
duty." 

A  Roman  Senate  would  have  granted,  undoubtedly,  such 
a  request  as  this,  if  made  under  such  circumstances  as  I  have 
described.  Let  us  suppose  they  had  done  so,  and  that  the 
prison  doors  had  been  opened,  and  the  offers  of  pardon  had 
been  circulated  among  the  convicts  there. 

Now  I  wish  my  reader  to  bear  in  mind  that  I  am  not  in- 
tending here  to  offer  an  illustration  of  the  way  in  which  our 
salvation  is  effected  by  the  sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God, 
No  analogy  drawn  from  any  earthly  transactions,  can  fully 
illustrate  the  way  in  which  the  Lamb  of  God  taketh  away 
the  sins  of  the  world.  My  object  is  to  illustrate  the  spirit, 
with  tohich  the  offer  of  mercy  through  him  is  to  be  received, 
and  I  have  made  this  supposition  for  the  purpose  of  placing- 
these  prisoners  in  a  situation  somewhat  like  that  of  condemn- 
ed sinners  in  this  world,  that  I  may  shew  how  the  Bible 
brings  relief  to  those  suffering  under  the  burden  of  sin,  by 
offering  them  mercy  through  a  Saviour. 

A  messenger  comes  then,  we  will  suppose,  among  the  im- 
prisoned malefactors — tells  them  he  brings  good  news  to 
them — an  offer  of  pardon  from  the  Roman  Senate.  The 
prisoners  look  incredulous.  They  know  that  the  Roman 
government  is  an  efficient  one,  and  that  it  is  accustomed  to 
execute  its  laws.  "  We  are  justly  imprisoned,"  they  would 
say,  "  and  our  time  is  not  yet  expired — there  can  be  no  for- 
giveness for  us  till  the  law  sets  us  free." 

The  messenger  then  relates  to  them,  that  in  consequence 
of  the  distinguished  services  and  subsequently  cruel  suffer- 
ings of  a  great  Roman  general,  the  Senate  had  wished  to 
make  to  his  widow  some  public  expression  of  the  s^^mpathy 
and  gratitude  of  the  Commonwealth  and  that  she  had  asked 
it  as  a  boon  that  every  penitent  prisoner,  willing  to  abandoa 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  173 

Its  effects  in  prison.  The  effects  of  the  gospel  the  same. 

his  crimes  and  return  to  his  duty  might  be  set  free  for 
her  husband' s  sake. 

Now,  unquestionably,  iC  there  were  any  who  should  hear 
this  message  who  were  really  penitent  for  sin,  and  willing  to 
return  to  duty,  their  abhorrence  of  their  crimes  would  be 
increased,  and  their  determination  to  be  faithful  citizens  in 
future  would  be  strengthened  by  receiving  such  an  offer  of 
pardon.  Nay,  it  would  not  be  surprising  if  some  who  were 
still  hardened  in  their  sins,  and  even  in  the  midst  of  noise 
and  revelry  in  the  prison  at  the  very  time  the  messenger  ap- 
peared, should  be  arrested,  and  their  feelings  touched  by  such 
an  address. 

"How  different,"  they  might  reflect,  " is  the  conduct  of 
Regulus,  from  ours.  We  have  been,  by  our  vices  and  crimes, 
bringing  injuries  without  number  upon  our  country.  He,  by 
his  labors  and  sufferings,  has  been  unceasingly  endeavoring 
to  do  her  good.  And  Marcia,  too, — it  wa&  knid  for  her  to 
think  of  us.  When  we  were  at  liberty,  we  thought  only  of 
gratifying  our  own  passions, — we  made  no  effort  to  promote 
the  happiness  of  others  or  to  diminish  their  sufferings.  We 
will  return  to  our  duty,  and  imitate  the  example  they  have 
set  for  us." 

It  would  not  be  surprising  if  such  a  transaction  had  awaken- 
ed those  reflections  in  some  minds ;  and  on  the  whole  the 
effect  of  the  offer  of  mercy  through  Jesus  Christ,  produces 
very  similar  effects  in  the  world,  to  those  I  have  above  imag- 
ined in  the  prison.  When  men  are  told  in  general  terms.,  that 
God  is  merciful  and  will  forgive  their  sins,  it  does  not,  in  or- 
dinary cases,  really  relieve  them.  Though,  perhaps,  they 
do  not  say  it  distinctly,  yet  i\iey  feel  that  God's  government, 
to  be  efficient,  must  have  strict  laws,  and  penalties  strictly 
executed,  and  they  are  afraid  that  a  mere  reliance  on  God's 
general  mercy  may  not  be  quite  safe.  Thousands  trust  to 
this  till  they  come  to  their  dying  hour,  and  then  abandon  it. 

But  when  men  are  told  that  by  the  word  of  God,  that 
Jesus  Christ  died  for  them,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  and  that 
they  must  come,  asking  forgiveness  in  his  name  and  for  his 
sake,  it  throws  a  different  aspect  over  the  whole  case.  A 
bright  gleam  of  hope  from  a  new  and  unexpected  quarter 
darts  in.  Though  they  may  not  know  fully  in  what  way, 
the  sufferings  of  Christ  may  be  the  means  of  opening  the 
way  for  their  forgiveness.  They  still  can  see  that  it  is  very 
possible  it  might  in  some  way  do  this.  It  is  not  necessary 
*15 


174  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

The  penitent  convict,  accepting  the  offer.  The  penitent  sinner. 

that  we  should  understand  fully  the  way.  The  convicts 
might  be  released,  without  knowing  all  about  the  story  of 
Regulus,  or  comprehending  exactly  how  such  a  transaction 
as  their  release  on  his  account,  would  affect  the  public  mind 
in  Rome,  so  as  to  avoid  the  evil  effects  of  laxity  in  the  ad- 
ministration of  public  justice.  There  might  be  many  a  poor 
ignorant  convict  who  could  not  comprehend  such  subjects  at 
all ;  and  yet  possess  the  spirit  of  mind,  which  should  bring 
him  most  fully,  within  the  conditions  of  release.  Such  an 
one  might  come  to  the  officer  appointed  for  the  purpose,  and 
say, 

"  I  am  very  grateful  to  the  Roman  Senate,  for  offering  to 
pardon  me  for  the  sake  of  Regulus.  I  was  really  guilty  of 
the  crime  for  which  I  was  sentenced,  and  the  term  of  my 
imprisonment  is  not  longer  than  I  justly  deserve ;  but  I 
am  glad  to  be  restored  to  freedom  and  to  happiness  now.  I 
shall  always  be  grateful  to  the  Senate,  and  shall  cherish  the 
memory  of  Regulus  as  long  as  I  live." 

Now  if  a  prisoner  had  this  spirit,  there  is  no  question  that 
he  would  be  released,  whether  he  was  or  was  not,  statesman 
or  philosopher  enough  to  understand  fully  the  moral  charac- 
ter and  influence  of  such  a  transaction.  And  so,  my  reader, 
if  you  are  willing  to  acknowledge  and  to  forsake  your  sins, 
and  to  accept  of  freedom  and  happiness  in  future,  on  account 
of  another's  merits  and  sufferings,  you  need  not  distress  your- 
self because  you  do  not  full'?/  comprehend  the  nature  of  that 
great  transaction  of  which  Gethsemane  and  Calvary  were 
the  scene.  It  cannot  be  fully  understood  here.  From  the 
windows  of  our  prison-house,  in  this  world,  we  can  see  but 
a  small  part  of  the  great  city  of  God.  We  cannot,  therefore, 
appreciate  fully  any  of  the  plans  of  his  government.  We 
can,  however,  feel  rii^ht,  ourselves.  We  can  ask  forgiveness 
in  Christ's  name,  and  beheve  on  the  authority  of  God's  word, 
that  God  has  set  forth  Jesus  Christ  to  be  a  propitiation  that 
we  might  be  saved,  through  faith,  in  his  blood, — that  is,  by 
our  trusting  in  his  suffciings, — that  God  might  be  just  and 
yet  save  those  who  trust  in  the  Saviour.* 

But  to  return  to  the  Roman  prison.  T  have  represented 
one  prisoner  as  accepting  the  offer  and  going  out  to  freedom 
in  consequence  of  it.  Let  us  now  suppose  that  the  public 
officer,  appointed  by  the  Senate,  to  carry  the  message  to  the 

•  See  Romans  iii,  23—28. 


EVIDENCES    OF    CHRISTIANITY.  175 

The  offer  neglected.  The  offer  rejected. 

prisoners  and  to  receive  their  replies,  should  meet  in  one  ot 
the  rooms,  a  very  different  reception.  He  passes,  we  will 
suppose,  along  a  dark  passage  way,  until  he  comes  to  the 
door  of  a  gloomy  dungeon.  The  keeper  removes  the  heavy 
rusty  bars,  and  unbolts  and  unlocks  the  door,  and  as  he  opens 
it,  he  hears  the  unexpected  sounds  of  mirth  and  revelry 
within. 

As  he  enters,  he  sees  the  wretched  looking  inmates  lying 
around  the  cold  stone  floor,  upon  their  beds  of  straw.  In  a 
corner  sit  some,  with  wild  and  haggard  looks,  relating  to  each 
other,  with  noisy  but  unnatural  mirth,  the  profane  jest  or  im- 
moral story.  In  the  middle  of  the  room  two  are  quarrelling 
for  a  morsel  of  food  which  each  claims,  filling  the  air  with 
their  dreadful  oaths  and  imprecations.  Near  the  door  lies  a 
miserable  object  half  covered  in  his  tattered  garment,  and 
endeavoring,  in  vain,  to  get  a  little  sleep.  A  small  grated 
window,  high  in  the  wall,  admits  a  dim  light,  just  sufficient 
to  reveal  to  view  the  objects  which  compose  the  scene  of  vice 
and  misery. 

The  quarrellers  and  the  rioters  pause  a  moment,  each  retain- 
ing his  attitude,  and  listen  while  the  messenger  from  the 
Senate  lays  before  them  the  ofifer  of  forgiveness  and  freedom. 
They  gaze  upon  him  for  a  few  minutes,  with  vacant  looks, 
but  before  he  has  fairly  finished  his  message,  the  angry  com- 
batants recommence  their  war, — the  story  teller  in  the  cor- 
ner goes  on  with  his  narrative, — the  sleeper  composes  himself 
again  to  rest, — and,  perhaps,  some  fierce  and  angry  looking 
criminal  comes  up  to  him  and  says,  in  a  stern  voice  of  defi- 
ance, "  Away, — you  have  no  business  here." 

Do  you  think  that  these  prisoners  would  be  liberated  for 
the  sake  of  Regulus  %  No !  The  bolts  and  bars  must  be 
closed  upon  them  again,  and  they  must  bear  their  sentence- 
to  the  full. — This  is  the  way  that  multitudes  receive  the 
offers  of  forgiveness  through  Jesus  Christ. 

Once  more.  Suppose  this  messenger  were  to  meet,  in  some 
part  of  the  prison,  one  of  the  convicts  walking  back  and 
forth  alone  in  his  cell,  and  should  repeat  to  him  the  story 
which  he  was  commissioned  to  bring. 

"  Forgiveness  for  the  sake  of  Regulus !"  says  he,  with  a 
tone  of  scorn  : — "  I  want  no  forgiveness  on  account  of  anoth- 
er ;  you  have  no  right  to  shut  me  up  here  for  any  thing  I 
have  done.  It  is  unjust  and  cruel.  I  demand  release  on  my 
own  account, — without  any  condition,  or  any  acknowledge- 


176  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Grateful  acceptance  of  tlie  offer.  Object  of  this  illustration. 

ment  of  my  dependence  for   it  upon   the  sufferings  of  an- 
other." 

Now  if  the  messenger  should  meet  with  the  exhibition  of 
such  a  spirit  as  this,  he  would  turn  away  and  close  the  bolts 
and  bars  of  the  prison  again  upon  such  a  convict,  and  seek 
subjects  of  mercy  elsewhere.  God,  too,  requires  of  us  all  a 
humbled  and  subdued  spirit,  and  willingness  to  accept  of  par- 
don iji  the  name  of  Jesus  Christ  who  died  for  us.  We  must 
come  with  the  spirit  which  I  first  described.  The  spirit  of 
the  convict  who  said, 

"  I  am  grateful  to  the  Roman  Senate  for  offering  to  pardon 
me  for  the  sake  of  Regulus.  I  was  really  guiltj^  of  the 
crime  for  which  I  was  sentenced,  and  the  term  of  my  im- 
prisonment is  not  longer  than  I  justly  deserve.  But  I 
am  glad  to  be  restored  to  freedom's  happiness  now.  I  shall 
always  be  grateful  to  the  Senate,  and  shall  cherish  the  mem- 
ory of  Regulus  as  long  as  I  live." 

Before  dismissing  this  illustration,  I  wish  to  remind  my 
readers  again,  that  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  exhibit  by  it, 
the  spirit  of  mind  with  which  we  ought  to  receive  the  offer 
of  mercy  through  Jesus  Christ, — not  the  nature  of  the 
atonement  which  he  has  made  for  sin.  The  case,  I  have 
imagined  could  not  safely  occur  in  any  human  government 
because  there  would  be  no  way  of  ascertaining  who,  among 
the  convicts,  were  truly  penitent,  and  were  really  determined 
on  leading  a  life  of  virtue  in  future.  Several  other  difficul- 
ties which  in  God's  government  do  not  exist,  are  unavoida- 
ble in  every  human  empire.  The  spirit  of  mind  with  which 
the  offer  of  free  forgiveness  in  Jesus'  name  is  welcomed  or 
refused,  is  all  which  I  design  this  case  to  explain.  If  the 
heart  is  really  ready  to  acknowledge  its  guilt,  and  willing  to 
accept  of  pardon  which  it  does  not  deserve,  the  offer  of  a 
Savioiu-  is  most  admirably  calculated  to  restore  peace  of  con- 
science, and  heal  a  wounded  spirit.  And  nothing  but  the 
Bible  can  make  such  an  oflfer.  Thus  one  of  the  most  powerful 
means  by  which  it  changes  character,  is  by  awakening  the 
sensibilities  of  the  heart,  through  the  exhibition  of  a  Saviour, 
crucified  for  our  sins ;  and  leading  us  to  feel  that  we  may 
be  forgiven,  and  the  obligation  and  authority  of  the  law  we 
have  broken  be  yet  sustained. 

5.  These  changes  of  character  are,  often  attended  with 
strong  excitement  and  sometimes  unlh  menial  delusion'  My 
readers  recollect  that   the  first  convict  saw,    at  one  time,  a 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY,  177 

Excitement  and  delusion.  Anecdote  of  Brinley. 

black  coffin,  according  to  his  statement ;  and  at  another,  he 
was  addressed  by  an  audible  voice  in  his  cell,  telling  him  that 
his  sins  were  pardoned.  Those  two  circumstances  were 
what  chiefly  induced  me  to  insert  that  narrative,  that  I  D:iight 
bring  up  distinctly  this  point,  viz  :  that  the  changes  of  char- 
acter produced  by  the  Bible,  are  often  attended  with  mental 
delusion,  in  little  things,  especially  among  those  minds  that 
have  been  but  little  disciplined  by  philosophical  thought.  I 
could  not  have  a  fair  specimen  without  including  an  example 
of  this. 

The  human  mind  is  so  constituted,  as  all  who  have  studied 
its  nature  are  fully  aware  that  when  any  subject  of  great  inter- 
est, or  any  strong  emotion,  takes  possession  of  it,  it  operates 
immediately  upon  the  body, — producing  sometimes  animal 
excitement  and  sometimes  delusions  of  the  senses.  So  that 
these  very  delusions  and  this  very  bodily  excitement,  prove 
the  greatness  and  the  reality  of  the  emotions  of  heart  which 
have  occasioned  them.  If  a  man  becomes  very  much  inter- 
ested in  any  scheme,  how  likely  he  is  to  become  enthusiastic 
in  it.  And  this  enthusiasm  the  public  usually  consider  as 
proving,  not  disproving,  his  sincerity.  It  indicates  the 
strength  of  the  interest  which  he  feels.  It  is  astonishing 
what  extravagances  people  will  put  up  with,  from  men  en- 
gaged in  the  prosecution  of  favorite  plans,  and  will  consider 
them  as  pleasant  indications  of  the  strength  of  the  interest 
which  is  felt.  Brinley,  a  famous  canal  engineer,  was  so 
much  interested  in  his  favorite  mode  of  transportation,  that 
he  used  to  express  the  opinion,  that  a  canal  was  far  more 
valuable  to  a  country,  than  a  navigable  river.  He  was  once 
asked  what  he  supposed  Providence  intended,  in  creating 
rivers.  He  said  they  were  good  for  nothing  but  to  feed 
canals.  And  this  story  has  been  copied  by  every  biographer 
of  Brinley ;  it  has  been  told  again  and  again  in  lectures  and 
conversations  and  debates,  as  a  pleasant  instance  of  extrav- 
agance, in  a  man  devoted  to  a  favorite  pursuit,  which  proves 
nothing  but  the  greatness  of  the  interest  he  feels  in  it.  No- 
body ever  thought  the  worse  of  Brinley,  for  it,  or  distrusted 
his  judgment  on  anj  'point  in  the  science  of  engineering.  Mil- 
lions were  risked  on  his  opinion  while  he  was  living,  and  his 
name  is  remembered  with  the  highest  respect.  So  Christians 
of  uncultivated  minds  will  be  sometimes  extravagant  in 
their  opinions,  or  in  their  conduct,  and  only  shew  by  it  the 
Strength  of  the  interest  they  feel, 


178  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Cases  of  excilemeiU.  Conversion  a  very  gpreat  change. 

A  man  who  is  inventing  a  machine,  will  get  so  excited 
that  he  cannot  sleep.  He  will,  perhaps,  in  his  efforts  to  ob- 
tain repose,  fall  into  an  uncertani  state,  between  sleeping  and 
waking,  in  which,  half  in  reverie  and  half  in  dream,  fancy 
will  present  him  with  splendid  images  of  success.  He  will 
hear  a  voice,  or  see  a  figure, — or  he  will  be  assured  by  some 
extraordinary  mode  that  he  shall  overcome  all  his  difficulties, 
if  he  will  persevere.  In  the  morning,  light,  and  the  full 
possession  of  his  faculties  return,  and  as  he  is  generally  a 
man  of  intelligence,  he  can  analyse  the  operations  of  his 
mind,  and  separate  the  false  from  the  true.  If  he  was  an 
unenlightened  man,  however,  and  should  in  the  morning  tell 
his  story,  how  narrow  would  be  the  philosophy  which  would 
say  to  him,  "  Sir,  it  is  all  a  delusion.  Your  mind  is  evidently 
turned.  You  had  better  give  up  your  invention  and  return 
to  other  pursuits."  It  would  be  a  great  deal  more  wise  to 
neglect  altogether  the  story  of  supernatural  voices  and  ap- 
pearances which  he  might  tell,  and  judge  of  the  value  of 
his  proposed  invention  by  examining  impartially  his  plan 
itself,  and  calculating  on  sober  evidence,  the  probability  of 
success  or  failure. 

So,  my  reader,  when  you  hear  of  any  thing  which  you 
deem  extravagance  or  delusion  among  Christians,  remember 
how  immense  a  change  the  beginning  of  a  Christian  course 
sometimes  is.  The  man  has  been  all  his  life  neglecting  and 
disliking  religion.  He  has  been  engrossed  m  sinful  pursuits 
and  pleasures  and  perhftjDs  addicted  to  open  vice.  All  at 
once  the  Bible  opens  his  eyes — shews  him  his  guilt  and  his 
imminent  danger  of  ruin.  He  is,  and  he  must  be  strongly 
excited.  If  he  feels  in  any  sense  his  condition  he  cannot 
sleep.  Can  an  arrested  malefactor  sleep  quietly  the  first  night 
in  his  cell  ?  He  must  be  strongly  excited,  and  this  excite- 
ment must,  in  many  cases,  bring  some  temporary  mental  de- 
lusion. He  must  do  and  say  many  things  in  which  the 
talm  spectators  cannot  sympathise.  But  it  is  most  certainly 
very  unphilosophical  to  fasten  upon  these  and  say  it  is  all 
delusion  and  wildncss.  The  real  question  to  be  considered 
is  this ;  Is  a  bad  character  really  cha„ged  for  a  good  one. 
If  so,  it  is  a  great  moral  change,  invaluable  in  its  nature  and 
results,  productive  of  inconceivable  good  to  the  individual 
himself,  and  to  nil  connected  with  him.  The  delusion  is 
momentary  and  harmless.  In  regard  to  the  permanency  of 
the  change  in  the  case  of  those  eouvicts,  there  is  one  v/hose 


EVIDENCES  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  179 

Narrow  views.  Danger  on  both  sides.  Criterion. 

subsequent  character,  I  have  no  means  of  knowing-.  The 
other,  however,  when  he  was  Uberated,  became  a  useful  and 
respectable  citizen;  and  after  sustaining  uninjured  for  two 
or  th;-ee  years,  the  temptations  of  the  world,  he  was  admitted 
to  a  Christian  church,  and  up  to  the  latest  accounts  which  I 
have  been  able  to  obtain,  he  was  a  most  trustworthy  man 
and  an  exemplary  Christian.  An  abandoned  profligate,  im- 
prisoned for  his  crimes,  becomes  a  useful  citizen  and  a  vir- 
tuous man.  Can  you  expect  such  a  change  without  excite- 
ment ?  How  unphilosophical  then  is  it  to  fasten  upon  the 
slight  and  momentary  indications  of  it,  as  evidence  that 
there  is  nothing  real  in  the  case. 

And  yet  unphilcsophical  as  this  is,  I  have  no  doubt  that 
there  are  many  persons  whose  eyes,  if  they  were  reading  the 
first  convict's  story,  would  catch  at  once  the  accounts  of  the 
supernatural  appearances  which  he  thought  he  saw,  and  they 
would  stop  short  there.  "  Ah  !"  they  would  say,  "  he  heard 
a  voice  forgiving  his  sins  ; — he  saw  a  black  coffin  ! — It  is  all 
fanatacism and  delusion."  This  is  narrow-mindedness.  The 
intellect  which  reasons  thus,  in  such  a  state  that  it  does  not 
take  a  survey  of  the  whole  of  a  subject  presented  so  as  to 
form  an  independent  and  unbiassed  opinion.  The  man  fast- 
ens upon  one  little  blemish,  which  happens  to  be  turned  to- 
wards him,  and  seeing  no  farther,  he  condemns  the  whole. 
Like  the  inexperienced  mariner,  who  thinks  he  has  come  to 
a  barren  and  inhospitable  land,  because  he  sees  nothing  but 
precipitous  rocks  or  sandy  beaches,  on  the  shore  which  first 
comes  to  view. 

There  is,  however,  a  narrow-mindedness  which  may  oper- 
ate in  another  way.  Many  a  sincere  Christian  will  read 
such  an  account,  and  be  perfectly  satisfied,  because  he  meets 
with  a  few  expressions  of  penitence,  that  the  convict's  heart 
is  really  changed.  He  thinks  the  criminal  has  certainly  be- 
come a  Christian,  just  because  he  talks  like  one.  Whereas  it 
is  very  possible  that  he  is  only  repeating  language  which  he 
has  heard  others  use,  for  the  sake  of  exciting  sympathy,  or 
pretending  to  be  reformed  in  hope  of  pardon  and  release  from 
his  cell.  Now  it  is  as  narrow-minded  to  judge  from  a  very 
partial  knowledge  of  facts  in  one  way  as  in  another.  An 
experienced  Christian  can  indeed  often  form  a  tolerably  safe 
opinion  of  the  reality  or  fictitiousness  of  a  pretended  change, 
by  conversation.  But  the  great  decisive  evidence  after  all,  is 
perseverance  in  a  holy  life. 


180  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


Immediate  and  peaceful  submission  the  duty  of  all. 

If,  then,  men  who  have  been  abandoned  to  vice,  become 
vhtuous  and  trustworthy  citizens,  and  exempUfy,  for  years, 
the  graces  of  the  Christian  character,  we  will  put  up  with  a 
little  excitement,  and  even  delusion  at  the  time  of  the  change. 
For  It  is,  after  all,  of  comparatively  little  consequence  wheth- 
er this  excitement  shews  itself,  by  some  open  manifestation, 
as  by  the  black  coffin  rising  to  the  disturbed  imagination  of 
tlie  convict  in  his  cell,  or  the  loud  shout  "  Glory  to  God," 
which  resounds  in  the  Methodist  camp, — or  whether  it  is 
subdued  and  restrained  as  in  the  still  solemnity  of  an  inqui- 
ry meeting,  on  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath, — or  in  the  soli- 
tary sutfering  of  an  awakened  sinner,  mourning  at  midnight 
tlie  burden  of  his  sins.  Remember  that  I  say  it  is  of  little 
consequence, — not  that  it  is  of  none.  It  would  be  better  if 
men  would  follow  Jesus  as  readily  and  as  easily  as  Matthew 
did.  Jesus  said  unto  him,  "  Arise  and  follow  me :  and  he 
arose  and  followed  him."  Immediate  submission,  with  cor- 
dial confidence  in  the  Saviour,  will  remove  all  mental  suf- 
fering and  all  cause  for  it,  at  once  and  forever.  '  But  if  men 
will  only  give  up  their  sins,  and  lead  lives  of  actual  piety, 
we  will  not  quarrel  with  them  about  the  manner  in  which 
they  enter  the  new  way. 

Such  then  are  some  of  the  eflfects  of  the  Bible  upon  hu- 
man character  considered  in  detail.  I  have  thought  it  best 
in  order  to  show  the  moral  power  of  this  book,  as  distinctly 
as  possible,  to  analyse  thus  minutely  the  operation  of  it  in 
some  particular  cases.  Bat  the  argument  would  be  very  de- 
ficient if  I  should  leave  it  here — for  if  these  cases  were  un- 
common, they  would  prove  but  little.  But  they  are  not  un- 
common. Even  in  prisons,  a  very  large  number  of  such 
cases,  have,  as  I  have  already  stated,  occurred,  and  the  sub- 
jects of  such  changes  have  gone,  when  they  have  been  lib- 
erated, in  peace  and  happiness  to  their  homes.  There  are 
now  scattered  over  our  land,  vast  numbers  who  have  been 
brou<]rht  from  every  stage  and  degree  of  guilt/ to  seek  pardon 
through  the  Saviour  and  to  begin  a  life  of  virtue  and  pietj^ 
The  influence  of  the  Bible,  too,  upon  the  community  at  large 
is  so  greit,  that  every  country  where  it  freely  circulates,  is 
distinguished  for  the  peace  which  reigns  there.  Vice  is  com- 
paratively unknown,  property  and  life  are  safe,  every  man 
sits  under  his  own  vine  and  fig  tree,  with  none  to  molest  or 
make  him  afraid.     But  when  man   is  left   to  himself,   he 


EVIDENCES    OF   CHRISTIANITY.  181 

Limited  circulation  of  the  Bible.     Fear  of  death.      'Ihe  sick  young  man. 

makes  his  home  a  den  of  robbers.  If  you  travel  on  the  Nile, 
or  the  Tigris,  you  must  look  well  to  jour  means  of  defence. 
Men  must  go  in  caravans  in  all  those  regions,  for  mutual 
protection.  But  how  would  an  armed  escort  for  a  traveller 
appear,  on  the  banks  of  the  Connecticut  or  the  Hudson. 

And  yet,  though  benefits  so  great,  are  procured  to  society 
by  the  Bible,  they  are  procured  after  all,  only  by  a  limited 
application  of  its  moral  power.  It  is  a  very  small  proportion 
of  the  whole  population,  even  in  the  United  States,  which 
attends  at  all  to  the  commands  and  instructions  of  the  word 
of  God.  The  numbers  are,  however,  rapidly  increasing.  The 
cause  of  God  is  advancing  with  great  rapidity,  and  as  a  mil- 
itary despotism  or  a  Christian  republic  must  be  that  ultimate 
destiny  of  every  nation,  we  can  look  only  to  the  spread  of  the 
influence  of  the  Bible  to  save  our  country  from  ruin. 

I  will  close  this  chapter  by  mentioning  one  more  instance 
of  the  moral  power  of  the  Bible.  It  is  its  efiect  in  destroy- 
ing the  fear  of  death.  The  fear  of  death  is  instinctive,  not 
founded  on  reasoning.  It  is  reasonable  for  us  to  fear  some 
things  connected  with  death,  but  the  chief  apprehension 
which  every  man  feels  in  looking  forward  to  that  hour,  is  the 
result  of  an  instinctive  principle  which  Providence  has  im- 
planted in  every  man's  mind  ;  and  the  only  way  by  which 
it  can  be  counteracted,  without  the  Bible,  is  by  banishing 
the  subject  from  the  thoughts.  That  is  the  way  that  sol- 
diers acquire  courage  in  battle, — by  accustoming  themselves 
not  to  think  of  death  at  all.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  to 
contemplate  its  approach,  habitually  and  calmly,  without 
such  a  preparation  as  the  Bible  gives. 

Come  in  imagination  to  this  sick  chamber.  That  young 
man  tossing  restlessly  upon  his  pillow,  is  soon  to  die.  His 
physicians  have  given  him  over.  His  friends  despair,  but 
by  a  most  absurd  and  preposterous  species  of  kindness,  they 
will  not  tell  him  of  his  danger,  for  they  know  he  is  unpre- 
pared to  die,  and  the  knowledge  of  the  approach  of  the 
dread  hour  they  think  will  distress  him  !  But  the  sad  secret 
they  cannot  conceal ; — He  reads  his  sentence  in  their  anx- 
ious looks  and  agitated  words, — his  pale  cheek  turns  paler 
with  fear, — and  to  the  natural  restlessness  of  disease,  there 
is  added  the  overwhelming  agitations  of  mental  anguish. 
Can  you  soothe  him  ?  Can  you  calm  him  ?  Your  very  effort 
reveals  to  him  his  danger  more  distinctly,  and  his  heart  sinks 
within  him  in  hopeless  terror.  Sometimes,  it  is  tme,  this 
16 


182  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Sling  of  death.  The  dying  molher.  Practical  directions. 

fear  of  death  does  not  reign  in  the  heart  at  the  closing  hour, 
for  reason  may  be  gone,  or  the  soul  may  sink  into  stupor. 
But  when  death  is  really  foreseen  and  known  to  be  near 
while  the  faculties  retain  their  power,  the  expectation  of  it 
weighs  down  the  human  spirit  with  overwhelming  fears. 

But  the  Bible  tells  us  that  the  sting  of  death  is  sin,  and 
that  Christ  will  give  believers  the  victory  over  it.  The 
Bible  most  faithfully  keeps  this  promise.  See  that  dying 
Christian  mother.  She  knows  that  death  is  near,  and  has 
calmly  made  all  her  aiTangemcnts  for  the  closing  scene.  She 
is  a  Christian,  and  looks  forward  to  an  entrance  into  the 
world  of  spirits  with  no  foreboding  and  no  anxiety.  Her 
husband  and  children  and  friends  stand  in  agitation  and 
distress  around  her  bed-side,  but  she  is  calm.  A  Christian 
death-bed  very  often  exhibits  the  astonishing  spectacle  of 
composure  and  happiness  in  the  one  who  is  to  drink  the  cup, 
while  those  around,  who  are  only  witnesses  of  the  scene,  are 
overwhelmed  in  agitation  and  sorrow.  The  very  one  who  is 
to  encounter  the  suffering,  is  the  only  one  who  can  look  for- 
ward to  it  without  fear.  It  is  because  the  Bible  has  been 
shedding  its  influences  upon  her  heart,  and  by  a  moral  pow- 
er which  no  other  means  can  exert,  has  disarmed  death,  the 
very  king  of  terrors,  and  given  to  a  weak  and  suffering  mortal, 
the  victory  over  all  his  power. 

But  I  must  close  this  chapter,  and  with  it  close  the  short 
and  sinnple  view  I  have  been  endeavoring  to  give,  of  the  eviden- 
ces of  Christianity.  The  book  is  designed  as  an  illustration 
of  Christian  Duty  not  of  Christian  Truth.  I  do  not,  there- 
fore, go  far  into  subjects  of  this  nature.  It  is  so  necessary 
however,  for  the  peace  and  happiness  of  a  young  Christian, 
that  his  mind  should  rest  calmly  and  firmly  upon  a  belief 
that  the  Christian  religion  does  really  come  from  heaven, 
that  I  have  thought  it  would  be  useful  to  give  this  subject  a* 
place.  I  cannot  but  hope  that  my  readers  see  evidence 
enough  to  satisfy  them  that  the  Bible  is  really  the  word  of 
God.  If  you  do,  lay  up  the  conviction  in  yonr  heart,  and 
let  it  guide  and  influence  you.  But  let  me,"  before  I  dismiss 
the  subject,  give  you  two  or  three  short  practical  directions. 

1.  Do  not  think  there  is  no  other  side  to  this  question. 
There  are  a  great  many  things  which  may  be  said  against 
the  Bible,  and  some  things  which  you  cannot  answer.  But 
they  do  not  touch  or  affect  the  f^reat  ars;umcnts  by  lohich  the 
authority  of  the  Bible  is  sustained.     They  are  all  small,  de- 


EVIDENCES  OF    CHRISTIANITY-  183 

Difficulties.  Disputes.  Doing  duty, 

tached  difficulties.  This  is  a.  fundamental  point.  Some  of 
these  difficulties  can  be  satisfactorily  removed.  Others  can- 
not. And  it  is  no  matter  if  they  cannot.  When  some  dif- 
ficulty, such  as  the  difference  between  the  genealogy  of 
Christ,  as  given  by  Matthew  and  by  Luke,  is  presented  to 
you,  do  not  be  too  anxious  to  explain  it.  Acknowledge  that 
it  is  a  difficulty,  and  let  your  mind,  instead  of  being  thrown 
into  a  fever  by  a  vain  effiDrt  to  understand,  what  you  have  not 
philolgical  or  historical  knowledge  enough  to  investigate,  just 
say,  "  I  do  not  understand  that  point,"  and  then  let  your 
mind  rest,  calmly  and  with  confidence,  upon  the  great  but 
simple  arguments,  on  which  the  strong  foundations  of  your 
belief  stand. 

2.  Never  dispute  with  any  body  upon  the  evidences  of 
the  Christian  religion.  The  difficulty  with  unbelievers  is 
one  of  the  heart,  not  of  the  intellect,  and  you  cannot  alter  the 
heart  by  disputing.  When  they  present  you  with  arguments 
against  Christianity,  reply  in  substance,  "  What  you  say 
seems  plausible,  and  I  have  no  particular  answer  to  it.  Still 
it  does  not  reach  the  broad  and  deep  foundations  upon  which, 
in  my  view,  Christianity  rests ;  and  consequently,  notwith- 
standing what  you  say,  I  still  place  confidence  in  the  word 
of  God." 

3.  Notice  this,  which  if  you  will  watch  your  own  expe- 
rience, you  will  find  to  be  true.  Your  confidence  in  the 
word  of  God,  and  in  the  truths  of  religion,  will  be  almost 
exactly  proportional  to  the  fidelity  with  which  you  do  your 
duty.  When  you  lose  your  interest  in  your  progress  in  piety 
— and  neglect  prayer  and  wander  into  sin — then  you  will 
begin  to  be  in  darkness  and  doubt.  If  you  are  so  unhappy 
as  to  get  into  such  a  state,  do  not  waste  your  time  in  trying 
to  reason  yourself  back  to  belief  again.  Return  to  duty. 
Come  to  God  and  confess  your  wanderings  and  make  peace 
with  him.  If  you  do  this,  light  for  the  intellect,  and  peace 
for  the  heart  will  come  back  toc^ether. 


CHAPTER     Till. 

STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE. 

"  Able  to  make  us  wise  milo  salvatiou." 

It  is  not  my  intention  in  this  chapter  to  give  any  descrip- 
tion of  the  Bible  itself,  or  of  its  history  since  it  came  into  the 
world.  Nor  shall  I  endeavor  to  establish  its  divine  au- 
thority or  present  the  evidences  or  the  nature  of  its  in- 
spiration. M}^  object  is  to  point  out  practical  duty,  and 
I  shall  confine  myself  to  a  description  of  the  best  meth- 
ods of  reading  and  studying-  the  book. 

I  ought,  however,  to  remark  at  the  outset,  that  I  intend 
the  chapter  to  be  of  a  highly  practical  character,  and  I  shall 
go  accordingly  into  minute  detail.  Besides  I  am  wrting  for 
the  young,  and  shall,  as  I  have  generally  done  in  this  book, 
confine  myself  exclusively  to  them,  for  I  have  much  more 
hope  that  they  will  be  influenced  to  follow  the  course  which 
I  shall  endeavor  to  describe,  than  that  my  efforts  will  produce 
any  good  effect  upon  those  who  have  gone  beyond  the  me- 
ridian of  life.  If  a  man  has  past  the  age  of  thirty  without 
the  Bible,  it  is  to  be  feared  that  he  will  go  on  unaided  by  its 
light,  through  the  remainder  of  his  pilgrimage.  It  is  differ- 
ent, however,  with  the  young.  You  shrink  from  passing  life 
in  impiety.  You  know  that  the  Bible  can  be  the  onh^  safe 
lamp  to  your  feet,  and  if  you  are  not  now  living  by  its  light, 
there  is  hope  that  you  may  be  persuaded  to  come  and  give 
yourself  up  to  its  guidance. 

There  should  be  a  distinction  made  between  the  manner 
of  reading  the  Bible  on  the  Sabbath  and  during  the  bustle 
of  the  week.  The  two  objects  to  be  accomplished  and  the 
method  of  accomplishing  them  I  shall  describe. 

1.  On  the  Sabbath,  the  Bible  should  be  slii filed.  Every 
person,  old  or  young,  ignorant  or  learned,  should  devote  a 
portion  of  time*^  every  Sabbath,  to  thesturh/  of  the  Scri])tures, 
ill  the  more  strict  and  proper  sense  of  that  term.     But  to 


STUDY  OF  THE    BIBLE.  185 

Way  to  study  the  Bible.  The  young  man's  experiment. 

show  precisely  what  I  mean  by  this  weekly  study  of  the 
Bible,  I  will  describe  a  particular  case.  A  young  man  with 
only  such  opportunities  as  are  possessed  hy  all,  resolves  to 
take  this  course.  He  selects  the  epistle  to  the  Ephesians  for 
his  first  subject.  He  obtains  such  books  and  helps  as  he 
finds  in  his  own  family,  or  as  he  can  obtain  from  a  religious 
friend,  or  procure  from  a  Sabbath  School  Library.  It  is  not 
too  much  to  suppose  that  he  will  have  a  sacred  Atlas,  some 
Commentary,  and  probably,  a  Bible  Dictionary.  He  should 
also  have  pen,  ink  and  paper,  and  thus  provided,  he  sits  down, 
Sabbath  morning,  to  his  work  He  raises  a  short  but  heart- 
felt prayer  to  God  that  he  will  assist  and  bless  him  and  then 
commences  his  inquiries. 

The  Epistle  to  the  Ephesians  I  have  supposed  to  be  his 
subject.     He  sees  that  the  first  question  evidently  is,    "  who 
were  the  Ephesia7is  .<"'     He  finds  the  city  of  Ephesus  upon 
the  map — and  from  the  preface  to  the  Epistle,  contained  in 
the  commentary,  or  from  any  other  source  to  which  he  can 
have  access,  he  learns  what  sort  of  a  city  it  was, — what  was 
the  character  of  the  inhabitants,  and  if  possible,  what  condi- 
tion the  city  was  in,  at  the  time  this  letter  was  written.     He 
next  inquires  in  regard  to  the  writer  of  this  letter,  or  Epistle 
as  it  is  called.     It  was  Paul ;   and  what  did  Paul  know  of 
5:he  Ephesians?  had  he  ever  been  there?  or  was  he  writing 
to  strangers?    To  settle  these  points,  so  evidently  important 
):o  a  correct  understanding  of  the  letter,  he  examines  the  Acts 
of  the  Apostles,  which  contains  Paul's  life,  to  learn  whether 
Paul  went  there,  if  so,  what  happened  while  he  was  there. 
He  finds  that  many  interesting  incidents  occurred  during 
Paul's  visits,  and  his  curiosity  is  excited  to  know  whether 
these  things  will  be  alluded  to  in  the  letter.     He  next  endea- 
vors to  ascertain  where  Paul  was^  when  he  wrote  the  letter, 
and  after  having  thus  ascertained  every  thing  relating  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  case,  he  is  prepared  to  come  to  the 
Epistle  itself,  and  enter  with  spirit  and  interest  into  an  ex- 
amination of  its  contents. 

He  first  glances  his  eye  cursorily  through  the  chapters  of 
the  book,  that  he  may  take  in  at  once,  a  general  view  of  its 
object  and  design — perhaps  he  makes  out  a  brief  list  of  the 
topics  discussed,  and  thus  has  a  distinct  general  idea  of  the 
whole,  before  he  enters  into  a  minute  examination  of  the 
parts.  This  minute  examination  he  comes  to  at  last — though 
perhaps,  the  time  devoted  to  the  study  for  two  or  three  Sab- 
*16 


186  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

The  family  circle.  Dislribuiion  of  Books. 

baths,  is  spent  in  the  preparatory  inquiries.  If  it  is  so,  it  is 
time  well  spent.  For  hy  it,  he  is  now  prepared  to  enter  with 
interest  into  the  very  soul  and  spirit  of  the  letter.  AVhilehe 
was  ignorant  of  those  points,  his  knowledge  of  the  Epistle 
itself,  must  have  been  very  vague  and  superficial.  Suppose 
I  were  now  to  introduce  into  this  book  a  letter,  and  should 
begin  at  once,  without  saying  by  whom  the  letter  was  writ- 
ten, or  to  whom  it  was  addressed.  It  would  be  preposterous. 
If  I  wished  to  excite  your  interest,  I  should  describe  partic- 
ularly the  parties, — and  the  circumstances  which  produced 
the  letter  originally.  And  yet,  how  many  Christians  there 
are,  who  could  not  tell,  whether  Paul's  letter  to  the  Ephe- 
sians  was  written  before  or  after  he  went  there,  or  where 
Titus  was  when  Paul  wrote  to  him,  and  for  what  special 
purpose  he  wrote. 

lake  another  case.  The  father  or  mother  whom  Provi- 
dence has  placed  at  the  head  of  a  familj',  contrive  to  close 
their  worldly  business  at  an  early  hour  on  Saturday  evening, 
and  gather  around  the  table,  at  their  fireside,  all  those  who 
are  committed  to  their  charge.  They  choose  some  subject 
for  examination, — real,  thorough,  examination.  Perhaps  it 
is  the  rebuilding  of  Jerusalem  after  the  captivit}^  The  va- 
rious books  calculated  to  assist  their  inquiries  are  distributed 
among  the  members  of  the  group.  The  reference  Bible  is 
given  to  one — the  Concordance  to  another — Scott,  or  Dod- 
dridge or  Henry,  to  the  third — the  Bible  Dictionary  to  the 
fourth,  and  then,  when  all  are  seated,  and  the  Divine  blessing- 
has  been  asked  upon  their  labors,  the  father  asks  them  all  to 
turn  to  any  part  of  the  Scriptures  which  gives  information 
upon  the  subject.  They  examine  first,  the  account  of  the 
destruction  of  the  city  when  the  Jews  were  carried  captive, 
that  they  may  know  m  what  condition  it  was  probably 
found  on  their  return.  They  search  m  several  books  for  an 
account  of  the  first  movements  in  Babylon,  of  those  who  were 
desirous  of  return, — examine  the  jilans  they  formed — compare 
one  account  with  another ; — every  question  which  occurs  is 
asked,  and  the  information  which  it  seeks  for,  obtained.  Tlie 
two  expeditions  of  Ezra  and  Nehemiah  are  examined — the 
object  of  each  and  the  connexion  between  them.  Under  the 
control  of  a  judicious  parent,  even  secular  history  might  be 
occasionally  referred  to,  to  throw  light  upon  the  subject.  We 
may  properly  avail  ourselves  of  any  helps  of  this  kind,  so 
far  as  their  tendency  is  really  to  throw  light  ujwn  the  Sa- 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  187 

Interest  of  the  children.  Particular  directions. 

cred  volume.  The  children  of  the  family  soon  take  a  strong 
interest  in  the  study, — their  inquiries  are  encouraged, — their 
curiosity  is  awakened, — they  regard  it  a  pleasure  not  a  task. 
Instead  of  the  evening  of  Saturday,  the  afternoon  or  the 
evening  of  the  Sabbath,  if  more  convenient,  may  be  used ; 
and  if  the  children  are  members  of  a  Sabbath  School,  their 
next  lesson  may  be  the  subject.  Those  accustomed  to 
the  use  of  the  pen,  will  derive  great  advantage  from 
writing,  each  evening,  notes  or  abstracts  expressing  in  a  con- 
cise and  simple  style,  the  new  knowledge  they  have  acquired ; 
and  every  difficulty  should  be  noted,  that  it  may  be  present- 
ed at  some  convenient  opportunity  to  some  other  Christian 
student,  to  the  superintendant  of  the  Sabbath  School,  or  to 
a  Minister  of  the  Gospel. 

This  method  of  studying  the  Scriptures,  which  I  have 
thus  attempted  to  describe,  and  which  I  might  illustrate  by 
supposing  many  other  cases,  is  not  intended  for  one  class 
alone.  Not  for  the  ignorant  peculiarly — nor  for  the  wise. 
Not  for  the  rich — nor  for  the  poor ;  but  for  all.  The  solita- 
ry widow,  in  her  lonely  cottage  among  the  distant  moun- 
tains, with  nothing  but  her  simple  Bible  in  her  hand,  by  the 
light  of  her  evening  fire,  may  pursue  this  course  of  compar- 
ing Scripture  with  Scripture — and  entering  into  the  spirit  of 
sacred  story — throwing  herself  back,  to  ancient  times,  and 
thus  preparing  herself  to  grasp  more  completely  and  feel 
more  vividly  the  naoral  lessons  which  the  Bible  is  mainly  in- 
tended to  teach.  And  the  most  cultivated  scholar  may 
pursue  this  course,  in  his  quiet  stud}^  surrounded  by  all  the 
helps  to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  Scriptures,  which 
learning  can  produce  or  wealth  obtain. 

I  hope  the  specimens  I  have  given  are  sufficient  to  convey 
to  my  readers  the  general  idea  I  have  in  view,  when  I  speak 
of  studying  the  Bible,  in  contradistinction  from  the  mere  cur- 
sory reading  of  it,  which  is  so  common  among  Christians. 
But  I  must  illustrate  in  minute  detail,  the  various  methods 
of  doing  this.  For  there  are  many  persons  who  really  wish 
to  studjr  the  Bible  more  intellectually,  and  to  receive  more 
vivid  impressions  from  it,  but  who  really  do  not  know  exact- 
ly what  they  are  to  do,  to  secure  these  objects.  I  shall 
therefore  describe  some  of  the  means  which  can  easily  be 
adopted,  and  which  will  be  very  efficient  for  this  purpose. 

1.  Picturing  to  the  imagination  the  scenes  described. — 
There  is  a  very  common  difficulty  felt  by  multitudes  in  read- 


188  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

Familiar  sounds.  The  motto  in  the  School  room. 

ing  the  Bible  which  admits  of  so  sure  and  easy  a  remedy 
by  the  above  direction  that  I  cannot  avoid  devoting  a  few 
paragraphs  to  the  formal  consideration  of  it.  A  person  who 
is  convinced  that  it  is  his  duty  to  read  the  word  of  God,  and 
who  really  desn-es  to  read  it,  and  to  receive  instruction  from 
it,  sits  down  on  the  Sabbath  to  the  work.  He  opens,  per- 
haps, to  a  passage  in  the  gospels,  and  reads  on,  verse  after 
verse.  The  phraseology  is  all  perfectly  familiar.  He  has 
read  the  same  passage  a  hundred  times  before,  and  the  words 
fall  upon  his  ear  like  an  old  familiar  sound,  producing  no 
impression,  and  awakening  no  idea.  After  going  on  a  few 
verses,  he  finds  that  he  is  making  no  real  progress ;  perhaps 
his  mind  has  left  his  work  altogether  and  is  wandering  to 
some  other  subject.  He  begins  back  therefore  a  few  verses, 
and  endeavors  to  become  interested  in  the  narrative ;  but  it 
is  to  little  purpose,  and  after  spending  half  an  hour  in  his 
reading,  he  shuts  his  book  and  instead  of  feeling  that  re- 
newed moral  strength,  and  peace  of  mind,  which  comes 
from  the  proper  use  of  the  word  of  God, — he  feels  disap- 
pointed and  dissatisfied,  and  returns  to  his  other  duties  more 
unquiet  in  spirit  than  before.  What  a  vast  proportion  of  the 
reading  of  the  Bible,  as  practised  in  Christian  countries,  does 
this  description  justly  portray. 

Now  some  one  may  say  that  this  earless  and  useless  study 
of  God's  word,  arises  from  a  cold  and  indifierent  state  of 
heart  towards  God.  It  does  unquestionably  often  arise,  to  a 
great  degree,  from  this  source,  but  not  entirely.  There  is 
another  difficulty  not  connected  with  the  moral  state  of  the 
heart.     It  is  this  : 

Words  that  have  been  often  repeated,  gradually  lose  their 
power  to  awaken  vivid  ideas  in  the  mind.  The  clock  which 
has  struck,  perhaps,  many  thousand  times  in  your  room,  you 
at  last  cease  even  to  hear.  On  the  walls  of  a  school-room, 
there  was  once  painted  in  large  letters,  "  a  place  for  every 

THING,  AND  EVERY  THING  IN  ITS  PLACE,"   but    after  a  little 

time  the  i)upils  becoming  familiar  with  the  sight  of  the  in- 
scription, lost  altogether  its  meaning,  and  a  boy  would  open 
his  disorderly  desk,  and  look  among  the  confused  mass  of 
books  and  slates,  and  papers  there,  for  some  article  he  had 
lost,  and  then  as  he  looked  round  the  room,  his  eyes  would 
fall  on  the  conspicuous  motto,  without  thinking  a  moment 
of  the  incongruity  between  its  excellent  precept  and  his  own 
disorderly  practice.  It  is  always  so.  The  oft  repeated  sound 
falls  at  last  powerless  and  unheeded  on  the  ear. 


STUDY  OF  THE    BIBLE.  189 

Description  from  the  Bible.  Vivid  conceptions. 


The  difficulty,  then,  which  I  am  now  to  coiisider,  is  that 
in  readuig  the  Bible,  especially  those  portions  which  are  fa- 
miliar, we  stop  with  merely  rejjeating  once,  more  the  words,  in- 
stead of  penetrating  fully  to  the  meaning  beyond.  In  order 
to  illustrate  this  difficulty  and  its  remedy  more  fully,  let  me 
take  a  passage,  for  example  the  sixth  chapter  of  St.  John,  to 
which  I  have  opened  at  random. 

"  After  these  things  Jesus  went  over  the  sea  of  Gahlee, 
which  is  the  sea  of  Tiberias. 

"  And  a  great  multitude  followed  him,  because  they  saw 
his  miracles  which  he  did  on  them  that  were  diseased." 

How  familiar,  now,  this  sounds  to  every  reader.  Every 
phrase  comes  upon  the  ear  like  an  oft  told  tale,  but  it  makes 
a  very  slight  impression  upon  the  mind.  The  next  verse, 
though  perhaps  few  of  my  readers  know  now  what  it  is,  will 
sound  equally  familiar  when  they  read  it  here. 

"  And  Jesus  went  up  into  a  mountain,  and  there  he  sat 
with  his  disciples." 

Now  suppose  this  passage  and  the  verses  which  follow  it, 
were  read  at  morning  prayers  by  the  master  of  a  family, 
how  many  of  the  children  would  hear  it  without  being  in- 
terested in  it  all,  or  receiving  any  clear  and  vivid  ideas  from 
the  description.  And  how  many  would  there  be,  who,  if 
they  were  asked  two  hours  afterwards  what  had  been  read 
that  morning,  would  be  utterly  unable  to  tell. 

But  now  suppose  that  this  same  father  could,  by  some 
magic  power,  shew  to  his  children  the  real  scene  which  these 
verses  could  describe-  Suppose  he  could  go  back  through 
the  eighteen  hundred  years  which  have  elapsed  since  these 
events  occurred,  and  taking  his  family  to  some  elevation  in 
the  romantic  scenery  of  Palestine,  from  which  they  might 
overlook  the  country  of  Galilee,  actually  see  all  that  this 
chapter  describes. 

"  Do  you  see,"  he  might  say,  "  that  wide  sea  which  spreads 
out  beneath  us  and  occupies  the  whole  extent  of  the  valley? 
That  is  the  sea  of  Tiberias  ;  it  is  also  called  the  sea  of  Gal- 
ilee. All  this  country  which  spreads  around  it,  is  Galilee. 
Those  distant  mountains  are  in  Galilee,  and  that  beautiful 
wood  which  skirts  the  shore  is  a  Galilean  forest." 

"  Why  is  it  called  the  sea  of  Tiberias  ?"  a  child  might 
ask. 

"  Do  you  see  at  the  foot  of  that  hill  on  the  opposite  shore 
of  the  lake,  a  small  town.     It  extends  along  the  margin  of 


190  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Piclurinsf  the  scene  to  the  mind. 


the  water  for  a  considerable  distance.     That  is  Tiberias  and 
the  lake  sometimes  takes  its  name." 

"  But  look.  Do  you  see  that  small  boat  coming  round  a 
point  of  land  which  juts  out  beautifully  from  this  side  of  the 
lake.  It  is  slowly  making  its  way  across  the  water,  we  can 
almost  hear  the  plashing  of  the  oars.  It  contains  the  Sa- 
viour, and  some  of  his  disciples.  They  are  steering  towards 
Tiberias, — now  they  approach  the  shore — they  stop  at  the 
landing,  and  the  Saviour,  followed  by  his  disciples,  walks  up 
upon  the  shore." 

Suppose  now  that  this  part}^  of  observers  can  remain  a 
little  longer  at  their  post,  and  see  in  a  short  time  that  some 
sick  person  is  brought  to  the  Saviour  to  be  healed.  Another 
and  another  comes.  A  crowd  gradually  collects  around  him. 
He  retreats  slowly  up  the  rising  ground,  and  after  a  little 
time,  he  is  seen  to  take  his  place  upon  an  elevated  spot, 
where  he  can  overlook  and  address  the  throng  which  has 
collected  around  him. 

If  this  could  be  done  how  strong  and  how  lasting  an  im- 
pression would  be  made  upon  those  minds.  Years,  and  per- 
haps the  whole  of  life  itself,  would  not  obliterate  the  impres- 
sion. Even  this  faint  description,  though  it  brings  nothing 
new  to  the  mind,  will  probably  make  a  much  stronger  and 
more  lasting  impression  than  merely  reading  the  narra- 
tion would  do.  And  what  is  the  reason  ?  How  is  it  that 
what  I  have  here  said  has  impressed  this  scene  upon  your 
minds  more  distinctly  than  the  simple  language  of  the  Bible  ? 
Why  it  is  only  because  I  have  endeavored  to  lead  you  to 
picture  this  scene  to  your  minds — to  conceive  of  it  strongly 
and  clearly.  Now  any  person  can  do  this  for  himself,  in  re- 
gard to  any  passage  of  Scripture.  It  is  not  necessary  that 
I  should  go  on  and  delineate  in  this  manner,  the  whole  of 
the  account.  Each  reader  can,  if  he  will  task  his  imagin- 
ation, paint /or  himself,  the  scenes  which  the  Bible  describes. 
And  if  he  does  bring  his  intellect  and  his  powers  of  concep- 
tion to  the  work,  and  read  not  merely  to  repeat  formally  and 
coldly  sounds  already  familinr,  but  to  bring  vivid  and  clear 
conceptions  to  his  mind  of  all  which  is  represented  there,  he 
will  be  interested.  He  will  find  new  and  striking  scenes 
coming  up  continually  to  view,  and  will  be  surprised  at  the 
novelty  and  interest  which  this  simple  and  easy  effort  will 
throw  over  those  very  portions  of  the  Bible  to  which  the  ear 
a  hsbecomc  most  completely  familiar, 


STUDY  OF    THE    BIBLE.  191 

Clear  conceptions.  West's  picture  of  Christ  rejecled, 

I  wish  now,  that  every  one  of  mj  readers  would  really 
try  this  experiment.  It  will  do  very  little  good  merely  to 
read  the  forgoing  directions  and  resolve  generally,  to  try  in 
future  to  form  vivid  and  clear  conceptions  of  what  is  de- 
scribed, when  you  are  reading.  You  must  make  a  jjarticu' 
lar  effort  to  learn  to  do  this.  Now  the  next  time  you  sit 
down  to  reading  the  Bible,  turn  to  the  5th  chapter  of  the 
Gospel  according  to  St.  Luke,  and  picture  to  yourself  as 
vividly  as  possible,  the  scene  described  there.  Do  not  think 
of  a  shore  in  general,  but  conceive  of  some  particular  shore. 
Give  it  shape  and  form.  Let  it  be  rocky  or  sandy,  or  high 
or  low — bordered  with  woods,  or  with  hills,  or  with  meadows. 
Let  it  be  something  distinct.  You  may,  if  you  please,  con- 
ceive it  to  be  a  long  sandy  beach,  with  a  lofty  bank  and  a 
verdant  field  behind  ; — or  you  may  have  it  an  open  wood 
sloping  gradually  down  to  the  water's  edge, — or  a  rockj^  ir- 
regular coast  full  of  indentations, — or  a  deep  and  narrow 
bay  whose  shores  are  overhung  with  willows.  Let  it  assume 
either  of  these  forms,  or  any  other,  which  your  fancy  may 
portray,  and  which  may  suit  the  circumstances  of  the  narra- 
tive. Only  let  it  be  something  distinct, — clear  and  distinct, 
— in  all  its  parts,  so  that  if  you  had  power  to  represent  upon 
canvas,  by  painting,  the  conceptions  of  your  mind,  you 
might  execute  a  perfect  picture  of  the  whole  scene. 

To  do  this  properly  will  require  time  and  thought.  You 
must  be  alone,  or  at  least  uninterrupted,  and  your  first  effort 
will  be  a  difficult  one.  The  power  of  forming  clear  and 
vivid  conceptions  of  this  kind  varies  greatly,  in  different  indi- 
viduals. The  faculty  can,  however,  be  cultivated  and 
strengthened  by  exercise.  Historical  painters,  that  is,  paint- 
ers of  historical  scenes,  are  enabled  to  produce  very  great 
effects  by  the  possession  of  this  power.  West,  for  example, 
formed  in  his  own  mind  a  clear,  and  vivid,  and  interesting 
conception  of  the  scene  which  was  exhibited  when  the 
crowd  of  angry  Jews  rejected  the  Saviour,  and  called  for  his 
crucifixion.  He  painted  this  scene,  and  the  great  picture 
which  he  thus  produced,  has  been  gazed  at,  with  intense  in- 
I'srest,  by  many  thousands. 

I  saw  this  picture  in  the  gallery  of  the  Athenaeum  at 
Boston.  The  gallery  is  a  large  and  lofty  apartment,  lighted 
by  windows  above,  and  containing  seats  for  hundreds.  As  I 
came  up  the  stairs  which  lead  into  the  room,  and  stepped 
from  them  upon  the  floor  of  the  appartment  I  found  a  large 


192  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Effect  upon  the  assembly.  Writing  questions. 

company  assembled.  The  picture,  which  was,  as  I  should 
suppose,  10  or  15  feet  long,  stood  against  one  side  of  the 
apartment,  and  before  it,  arranged  upon  the  seats,  were  the 
assembled  spectators,  who  were  gazing  with  intense  interest, 
and  almost  ni  perfect  silence,  upon  the  scene.  As  we  came 
forward  before  the  canvass,  we  felt  the  same  solemn  impres- 
sion which  had  silenced  the  others,  and  it  was  interesting 
and  aftectnig  to  observe,  as  party  after  party  came  up  the 
stairs,  talknigwith  usual  freedom,  that  their  voices  gradually 
died  away,  and  they  stood  silent  and  subdued  before  the  pic- 
ture of  the  Saviour. 

Yes :  there  stood  the  Saviour  in  the  middle  of  the  picture, 
— passive  and  resigned,  and  with  a  countenance  whose  ex- 
pression planily  said  that  his  thoughts  were  far  away.  The 
Roman  Governor  stood  before  his  palace,  endeavoring  to 
persuade  the  mob  to  consent  to  their  prisoner's  release.  The 
uncovered  and  hard  featured  soldiery  sat  at  his  feet  upon  the 
cross,  which  they  had  been  carrying,  and  were  holding  in 
their  hands  the  spikes  with  which  the  limbs  of  the  innocent 
one  before  them  were  to  be  pierced.  All  the  other  attendant 
circumstances  were  most  vividly  and  strikingl}'-  represented. 
The  mob  were  there,  with  fury  and  rage  and  hate,  in  every 
variety,  upon  their  countenances.  Barabbas  was  there,  with 
his  look  of  hardened  and  unsubdued  guilt, — and  the  little 
centurion's  daughter,  whose  life  Jesus  had  saved,  stood  by 
her  father,  apparently  entreating  him  to  interpose  his  power 
to  rescue  her  preserver. 

Now  West  must  have  possessed,  in  order  to  succeed  in  ex- 
ecuting such  a  work,  the  power,  first,  of  forming  a  clear 
mental  conception  of  the  scene,  and  secondly,  of  represent- 
ing this  scene  by  colors  on  the  canvass.  The  former  of 
these  only  is  the  one  necessary  for  the  object  I  have  above 
described,  and  you  ought,  while  reading  accounts  of  Scrip- 
ture scenes,  to  form  as  vi\'id  and  distinct  conceptions  of  the 
scenes  described  as  if  you  were  actually  intending  to  repre- 
sent them  by  the  pencil. 

2.  Writing  questions.  A  young  man  with  pen  and  pa- 
per before  him,  sits  down,  I  will  suppose,  to  the  examination 
of  Borne  portion  of  the  Bible,  intending  to  write  questions 
upon  the  passage,  such  as  he  would  ask  if  he  wore  hearing 
a  class  in  a  Sabbath  School  recite  the  passage.  Suppose  he 
opens  to  the  account  of  Abraham's  offering  Isaac. 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  193 

God's  command  to  Abraham.  Questions  upon  ihe  passage. 

The  following  is  the  passage.  I  copj  it  that  the  reader 
may  the  better  understand  the  questions. 

1.  And  it  came  to  pass  after  these  things,  thai  God  did  tempt  Abraham, 
and  said  unto  him,  Abraham  ;  and  he  said,  JJehold,  here  I  am. 

2.  And  he  said,  'I'ake  now  thy  son,  thine  only  son  Isaac,  whom  thou  lovest, 
and  get  thee  into  the  land  of  IMoriah  ;  and  oti("er  him  diere  for  a  burnt  offering 
upon  one  of  die  mountains  which  I  will  tell  ihee  of. 

3.  And  Abraham  rose  up  early  in  the  morning,  and  saddled  his  ass,  end 
took  two  of  his  young  men  with  him,  and  Isaac  his  son,  and  clave  the  wood  for 
the  burnt  offering,  and  rose  up  and  went  unto  the  place  of  which  God  had  told 
him. 

4.  Then  on  the  third  day,  Abraham  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  saw  the  place 
afar  off. 

5.  And  Abraham  said  unto  his  young  men,  Abide  ye  here  with  the  ass  ; 
and  I  and  the  lad  will  go  yonder  and  worship,  and  come  again  to  you. 

He  reads  this  narrative  carefulh^  verse  by  verse,  and  writes 
a  question  for  every  important  fact  stated.  Perhaps  the 
questions  might  be  somewhat  as  follows.  The  reader  in  ex- 
amining them,  is  particularly  requested  to  compare  the  ques- 
tions individually  with  the  verses  in  which  the  answers  are 
contained.  I  ought  also  to  remark  that  I  do  not  offer  these 
as  examples  of  good  questions,  but  only  as  a  specimen  of  such 
as  I  suppose  most  young  persons  would  write. 

1.  To  what  land  did  God  command  Abraham  to  go  to 
offer  up  his  son  1 

2.  How  was  he  to  be  offered  ? 

3.  Was  he  to  be  offered  on  a  mountain  1 

4.  How  did  Abraham  travel  ? 

5.  What  time  did  he  set  out  ? 

6.  How  many  attendants  had  he  ? 

7.  How  long  a  journey  was  it? 

8.  What  is  stated  in  the  5th  verse  7 

I  have  "vvritten  these  questions  as  I  imagine  they  might 
be  written  by  intelligent  young  persons.  Some  of  them  are 
however,  evidently  not  good.  A  leading  question  ought  not 
to  be  asked,  i.  e.  one  so  written  as  to  imply  what  the  answer 
is.  Nor  ought  it  to  be  so  written  that  the  answer  should  be 
simply  yes  or  no.  No.  3,  of  the  above  is  a  leading  question. 
No.  8,  too,  is  a  bad  question.  It  is  not  important  that  one 
should  remember  what  is  told  in  any  particular  verse.  It 
would  have  been  better  in  some  such  form  as  this. 

8.  What  arrangement  was  made  after  they  arrived  at  the 
mountain  ? 

17 


194  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Questions  written  by  a  boy.  Many  faulty. 

In  Older,  however,  that  my  readers  might  understand  what 
is  aclually  attainable  by  young  persons  in  such  an  exercise, 
I  asked  a  boy  to  write  for  me  some  questions  on  Acts 
xix,  and  I  insert  them  just  as  he  gave  them  to  me.  It 
was  his  first  attempt. 

"  When  A  polios  was  at  Corinth,  what  did  Paul  do  7 

Who  did  he  find  there  ? 

What  did  he  say  to  them  ? 

What  answer  did  they  make  7 

What  did  he  l^ien  ask  them  ? 

What  did  they  say  ? 

What  did  Paul  then  say  ? 

When  they  heard  this,  what  did  they  do  1 

When  Paul  had  laid  his  hands  upon  them,  what  happened  1 

How  many  men  were  they  ? 

Whtre  did  Paul  then  go  ? 

What  did  he  do? 

What  did  he  do  when  divers  were  hardened  ? 

For  how  long  a  time  did  this  continue  1 

What  happened  to  those  who  dwelt  in  Asia  ? 

By  whose  hands  did  God  perform  special  miracles  ? 

In  what  manner  did  Paul  heal  ihe  sick  1 

What  is  said  in  the  13th  verse  ? 

What  is  the  meaning  of  exorcist  ? 

How  many  were  there  that  did  so? 

What  did  the  evil  spirit  say  ? 

What  did  the  man  in  whom  was  the  evil  spirit  do  1 

What  did  they  do  ? 

To  whom  was  this  known  ? 

What  fell  on  them  ? 

Whose  name  was  magnified  ? 

What  did  many  do  who  believed  ? 

What  did  many  do  who  used  curious  arts  ? 

After  these  things  were  ended,  what  d:.!  Paul  design  to  dol 

Where  did  he  say  he  must  go  after  he  had  been  there  ? 

Who  did  he  send  into  Macedonia  ? 

What  were  their  names  ? 

Where  did  he  slay  ? 

What  happened  at  that  time  ? 

What  was  the  cause  of  it  ? 

Who  was  Demetrius  ? 

What  accusation  did  he  bring  against  Paul  ? 

What  <lid  he  say  was  in  danger? 

What  did  they  do  when  iheyTieard  these  things  ? 

What  happened  to  the  city  ? 

What  else  did  they  do  ? 

What  kept  Paul  from  going  in  to  the  people  ?'' 

My  readers  will  all  see  that  these  questions  are,  many  of 
them,  quite  faulty.  A  second  attempt,  if  the  writer  had  read 
the  remarks  1  have  made,  or  if  he  had  actually  tried  his 
questions  upon  a  class,  would  probably  have  been  much  bet- 
ter. 


STUDY  OF  THE    BIBLE.  195 

Utility  of  writing  questions.  Many  questions  on  one  verse. 

If  any  person  will  attempt  such  an  exercise  as  this,  he  will 
find  it  among  one  of  the  most  efficient  means  of  fixing  upon 
his  mind  the  facts  contained  in  any  portion  of  history,  which 
he  can  possibly  devise.  In  order  to  make  out  the  question,  you 
look  at  the  fact  in  various  aspects  and  relations.  All  its 
connexions  are  considered,  and  the  mind  becomes  thorough- 
ly familiarised  with  it.  For  you  will  find,  after  a  very  little 
practice,  that  the  same  fact  may  be  made  the  subject  a  great 
number  of  different  questions,  and  looking  at  these,  and 
choosing  between  them  is  a  most  valuable  intellectual  exer- 
cise. Take,  for  instance  the  very  question  I  have  already 
spoken  of,  particularly  No.  8.  See  how  many  different  ques- 
tions, or  rather  in  how  many  forms  the  same  question  can  be 
asked,  some  bad  and  some  good,  upon  the  single  verse  to 
which  it  relates. 

1.  What  did  Abraham  say  to  the  young  men  when  he 
reached  the  mountain  1 

2.  What  plan  did  Abraham  form  when  he  reached  the 
mountain  ? 

3.  Did  all  the  party  go  together  to  the  place  where  Isaac 
was  to  be  offered  ? 

4.  How  was  the  party  divided  when  they  reached  the 
mountain  ? 

5.  How  many  persons  went  wdth  Abraham  to  the  place 
of  sacrifice? 

6  When  Abraham  went  with  Isaac  alone  to  the  place 
of  sacrifice,  w^hat  did  he  say  he  was  going  for? 

7.  When  Abraham  left  the  young  men  behind,  to  go 
with  Isaac  alone  to  the  place  of  sacrifice,  did  he  tell  them 
what  he  was  going  to  do. 

8..  What  did  he  tell  them  he  was  going  to  do  ?  Was  this 
the  truth  7  Was  it  the  whole  truth  ?  Are  we  always  bound 
to  tell  the  whole  taith  ? 

The  reader  will  thus  see  that  one  and  the  same  fact,  may 
be  viewed  in  so  many  aspects  and  relations  as  to  suggest  a 
very  large  number  of  questions.  After  a  very  little  practice, 
several  questions  will  accordmgly  suggest  themselves  to  any 
individual  who  attempts  the  exercise,  at  each  verse.  He 
will  consider  which  to  choose.  He  will,  in  thus  considering, 
necessarily  viev/  the  fact  stated  under  its  various  aspects.and 
acquire  a  far  more  thorough  and  permanent  knowledge  of  it, 
than  is  possible  in  any  other  way.  So  great  is  the  advant- 
age- of  this  method  of  writing   questions  upon  an  author 


196  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN*. 

Experiment  tried  by  a  mother.  A  Sabbath  School  teacher. 

which  the  pupil  desires  thoroug^hlj  to  understand,  that  it  is 
not  unfrequentlj  adopted  in  sciiools, — each  pupil  of  a  class 
being-  required  to  write  questions  upon  a  part  or  upon  the 
whole  of  a  lesson,  which  questions  are  then  read  and  an- 
swered at  the  recitation. 

1  fancy  now  that  I  can  hear  some  one  of  my  readers  of  a 
mind  somewhat  mature,  saying,  "  I  will  myself  try  this 
experiment,  and  after  writing  the  questions  I  will  read  them 
to  some  younger  members  of  the  family,  to  see  if  they  can 
find  the  answers."  Perhaps  the  individual  who  resolves  on 
this  experiment,  is  the^  head  of  a  family ; — a  mother.  She 
gathers  her  children  around  after  the  public  services  on  the 
Sabbath,  and  says  to  them  ; — "We  will  study  a  chapter  in  the 
Bible.  /  will  study  and  you  shall  study.  I  will  read  it 
carefully  and  write  in  this  little  book  all  the  questions  I  can 
think  of,  and  you  at  the  same  time  iBay  read  it  attentively 
and  try  to  understand  it  and  remember  what  it  says.  Then 
after  tea  we  will  gather  around  the  table  before  our  bright 
fire,  and  I  will  read  my  questions  and  j^ou  may  see  if  you 
can  answer  them." 

The  children  enter  with  spirit  into  the  plan.  They  gather 
together  into  a  little  circle,  and  read  their  lesson  aloud,  verse 
by  verse,  questioning  each  other  in  regard  to  its  difficulties, 
and  endeavoring  to  anticipate  the  questions  which  the  moth- 
er is  preparing.  Even  the  little  Benjamin  of  the  family  is 
interested,  who  though  he  can  scarcely  read,  looks  attentive- 
ly upon  his  B  ible  with  the  large  print,  and  hoping  that  there 
will  be  some  easy  question  which  will  come  to  him. 

At  the  appointed  hour  they  gather  with  eager  interest  to 
their  i-ecitation.  The  mother  finds  that  many  of  her  ques- 
tions are  ambiguous,  some  too  difficult,  and  others  could  not 
be  answered  from  fault  of  the  scholars — still  a  large  propor- 
tion are  understood  and  answered.  The  moral  lessons  of  the 
chapter  are  brought  to  view^  and  gently  but  forcibly  impress- 
od  upon  the  heart. 

Are  you  a  Sabbath  School  teacher  ?  Lay  aside  your 
printed  question  book  for  one  Sabbath,  and  write  questions 
\^ourself,  upon  the  lesson  of  the  day.  Then  compare  what 
"you  have  written  with  those  printed  for  3^our  use.  Strike 
out  from  your  own  list  all  which  are  upon  the  other,  and 
carry  the  rest  with  you  to  your  class,  and  say  to  your  pupils 
somewhat  as  follows 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  197 

3.  R«-wriling  Scripture.  The  boy's  evening  work. 

"  1  have  been  writing  some  new  questions  on  this  lesson. 
Now  I  do  not  suppose  jou  can  answer  many  of  them,  be- 
cause jou  did  not  have  them  while  you  w^ere  studying.  But 
should  you  like  to  have  me  read  tliem  to  you  and  let  you 
try?; 

You  will,  in  such  a  case,  find  the  curiosity  and  interest  of 
your  class  strongly  awakened ;  and  though  your  first  ex- 
periment may  not  fully  succeed,  you  may  say  to  them,  "  I 
will  write  some  more  for  next  week.  When  you  are  study- 
ing jour  lessons  then,  I  should  like  to  have  you  remember 
that  I  am  writing  other  questions  than  those  in  the  book, 
and  endeavor  to  understand  and  remember  every  fact  stated 
in  the  lesson,  so  that  you  can  answer  all  my  questions  as 
well  as  the  printed  ones.  I  know  that  it  will  be  hard,  but  I 
presume  you  can  do  it." 

A  Sabbath  School  teacher  who  will  make  such  efforts  as 
these,  to  make  his  work  more  intellectual,  and  to  interest  him- 
self and  his  pupils  more  deeply  in  the  thorough  study  of 
their  lessons,  will  find  that  both  himself  and  his  pupils  will 
xidvance  with  at  least  double  rapidity. 

3.  Re-writing  portions  of  Scripture.  Read,  or  rather 
■study  some  portion  of  Scripture  thoroughly,  and  then  write 
the  substance  of  it  in  your  own  language^  I  can  illustrate 
this  best,  perhaps,  by  repeating  the  following  dialogue.  It  is 
I  will  suppose.  Sabbath  evening  ;  the  family  are  going  out, 
and  one  son,  a  boy  of  14,  is  to  be  left  at  home. 
"  What  shall  I  do  this  evening  ?"  asks  the  son. 
"  What  should  you  like  to  do  ?" 

"  I  dont  "know.  I  am  to  be  all  the  evening  alone,  and  I 
want  something  to  employ  my  time." 

The  father  turns  to  the  5th  chapter  of  Luke  and  says  : 
"  Take  this  chapter,  read  the  first  eleven  verses,  and  form 
u  clear  and  distinct  conception  of  the  whole  scene,  just  as  if 
you  had  witnessed  it  Then  write  an  account  of  it  in  your 
own  language.  Be  careful  to  write  entirely  in  your  own 
Injigimge. 

"  Must  I  not  use  the  language  of  the  Bible  at  all  ?" 
"  No.  You  have  two  separate  things  to  do.  First,  read 
the  account  attentively  and  thoroughly,  in  order  to  form  in 
your  own  mind  a  distinct  picture  of  the  whole.  Try  to  see 
it  as  plainly  as  if  you  had  stood  upon  the  bank  and  actually 
looked  down  upon  the  whole  transaction.  Then  shut  your 
Bible,  and  write  your  own  account  of  it,  just  as  if  you  were 
*17 


198  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Actual  case.  Passage.  Difficulty  arising. 

writing  a  letter  to  me,  and  describnig  something  which  3'ou 
had  yourself  seen." 

Now  suppose  the  boy  engages  in  this  work  in  the  manner 
described  above,  with  how  much  more  interest,  than  usual 
will  he  read  the  passage.  He  will  scrutinize  it  carefully  ; 
examine  every  circumstance  of  the  narrative  minutely,  ancl 
notice  many  points  of  interest  which  would  ordinarily  escape 
him. 

Once,  when  I  asked  a  lad,  nnder  circumstances  similar  to 
the  above,  to  re-write  this  passage,  he  had  not  been  five  min- 
utes at  his  work  before  he  came  with  a  question  which  I 
presume  hundreds  of  my  readers  have  never  thought  to  ask, 
though  they  all  have  doubtless  read  the  passage,  again  and 
again.     1  must,  however,  first  give  the  passage. 

LUKE    V,  1. 

1.  And  it  came  to  pass  that  as  the  people  pressed  upon  him  to  hear  the  word 
of  God,  he  stood  by  the  lake  of  Ciennesaret, 

2.  And  saw  two  ships  standing  by  the  lake  ;  but  the  fishermen  were  gone 
out  of  them,  and  were  washing  their  nets. 

3.  And  he  entered  into  one  of  the  ships,  which  was  Simon's,  and  prayed 
him  that  he  would  thrust  out  a  little  from  the  land.  And  he  sat  down  and' 
taught  the  people  out  of  the  ship. 

4.  Now  when  he  had  left  speaking,  he  said  unto  Simon,  Launch  out  into 
the  deep,  and  let  down  your  nets  for  a  draught. 

5.  And  Simon  answering,  said  unto  him,  Master,  we  have  toiled  all  the 
night,  and  have  taken  nothing  ;  nevertheless  at  thy  word  1  will  let  down  the 
net. 

6.  And  when  they  had  this  done,  they  inclosed  a  great  multitude  of  fishes  j 
and  their  net  brake. 

7.  And  they  beckoned  unto  their  partners,  which  were  in  the  other  ship, 
that  they  should  come  and  help  them.  And  they  came,  and  filled  both  ships,  so 
that  they  began  to  sink. 

8.  When  Simon  Peter  saw  it,  he  fell  down  at  Jesus'  knees,  saying.  Depart 
from  me  ;  for  I  am  a  sinful  man,  O  Lord. 

9.  For  he  was  astonished,  and  all  that  were  with  him,  at  the  draught  of  the 
fishes  which  they  had  taken. 

10.  And  so  was  also  James  and  John,  the  sons  of  Zebedee,  which  were 
partners  with  Simon.  And  Jesus  said  unto  Simon,  Fear  not;  from  henceforth 
thou  shalt  catch  men, 

IL  And  when  they  had  brought  their  ships  to  land,  they  forsook  aM,  and 
followed  him. 

The  difficulty  proposed  was  this : 

"  In  the  second  verse,"  says  he,  "  it  is  said  that  the  fisher- 
men had  gone  out  of  their  boats,  and  were  washing  their 
nets,  but  in  the  third,  Christ  enters  one  of  them  and  asks 
Simon  to  move  off  a  little  from  the  shore ;  that  seems  as  if 
Simon  was  in  his  boat." 

How  apparent  was  it  from  this  question  that  he  was  read- 
ing the  Bible,  understandin'gly,  and  not  merely  repeating 


STUDV  Of  THE  BIBLE.  199 

Explanation  of  it.  Story  of  Micah. 

once  more  the  familiar  sounds  bv  which  the  scenes  of  that 
passage  are  described.  Upon  a  Httle  reflection  it  was  mani- 
fest that  Simon  might  have  remained  in  his  boat,  while  the 
fishermen  o-c7ig /•«//?/ had  gone  ashore; — or  he  might  have 
stood  near,  so  as  to  be  easily  addressed  by  the  Saviour.  The 
difficulty  vanished  in  a  moment.  But  by  the  ordinarj'  dull 
sluggish  reading  of  the  Bible,  both  difficulty  and  solu- 
tion would  have  been  alike  unseen. 

The  following  was  the  description  produced  in  this  case, 
I  copy  it,  without  alteration,  that  my  readers  may  see,  from 
inspection  of  an  actual  example,  what  degree  of  success  they 
may  expect  to  attain. 

'•'  Once,  as  Jesns  was  standing  near  a  lake  called  Gennesaret,  a  great  multi- 
tude crowded  around  him,  wishing  to  have  him  address  them.  He  saw  near 
the  shore  two  fishing  vessels,  but  the  fishermen  had  gone  away  to  clean  their 
nets.  He  went  into  one  of  them,  which  belonged  to  Simon,  and  asked  him  to 
shove  the  vessel  out  a  little  way  into  the  water,  and  he  talked  to  the  people 
fi-om  the  deck.  When  he  had  finished,  he  told  Simon  to  go  out  into  the  sea 
and  cast  in  their  nets  in  order  to  get  some  fish.  And  Simon  said  to  him,  we 
have  been  working  all  night  and  have  not  caught  any  thing,  but  as  you  have 
desired  it  we  will  let  down  our  nets  again.  Having  done  it  they  took  a  great 
many  fishes,  and  their  net  was  broken,  and  there  were  so  many  fishes  that  both 
ships  were  filled  and  began  to  sink.  Simon  was  so  much  astonished  and  they 
that  were  with  him  at  taking  so  many  fishes,  this  time,  when  they  had  been  la- 
boring all  night  and  caught  nothing,  that  (he  fell  down  before  Jesus,  saying 
depart  from  me  for  I  am  a  sinful  man.)  Simon's  companions,  James  and  John 
were  also  surprised  at  the  fishes.  And  when  they  had  brought  their  ships  to 
the  shore  they  left  all  their  things  and  followed  Jesus." 

The  part  enclosed  in  a  parenthesis  is  Scripture  language. 
The  boy  could  not  express  that  idea  in  any  other  way,  and 
he  adopted  that  method  of  indicating  that  the  language  of 
the  Bible  was,  in  that  clause,  retained. - 

I  have  obtained  also,  several  other  specimens  of  a  similar 
character,  written  by  persons  of  different  ages  and  of  vari- 
ous intellectual  attainments ;  two  or  three  of  which  I  will 
insert  here.  The  reader  will  observe  that  these  were  written 
by  persons  of  very  different  degrees  of  mental  maturity.  The 
style  is  very  dissimilar  in  the  different  specimens,  and  thej^ 
show  therefore  more  distinctly,that  the  exercise  is  of  such  a  na- 
ture as  to  be  adapted  to  every  age  and  capacity. 

THE    STORY    OF    MICAH. 

"  A  woman  belonging  to  one  of  the  tribes  of  the  IsraeHtes,  from 
a  mistaken  idea  of  true  rehgion,  resolved  to  procure  some  images 
for  her  household  worship,  intending  to  consecrate  her  son  to  act  as 
priest.     She  siccordingly  dedicated  to  the  Lord,  the  sum  to  be  paid  for 


200  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Siory  of  Micah  continued. 


making  the  images  and  laid  it  aside  for  the  purpose.  This  money  was 
stolen  from  her  by  Micah,  the  very  son  for  whose  benefit  chiefly  she 
had  formed  the  plan.  Upon  missing  the  money,  she  was  greatly  en- 
rage, and  pronounced  in  the  hearing  of  her  son,  the  severest  impre- 
cations upon  the  sacrilegious  thief  This  so  terrified  Micah,  that  he 
confessed  his  crime  and  restored  the  money  to  his  mother.  Her  joy 
was  very  great  at  receiving  again  her  treasure.  She  told  her  son  to 
what  purpose  it  was  appropriated,  and  they  accordingly  procured  the 
images.  It  was  agreed  that  instead  of  Micah,  one  of  his  sons  should 
act  as  priest  until  a  more  suitable  person  could  be  obtained.  The  son 
was  accordingly  provided  with  sacerdotal  apparel  and  consecrated  to 
the  priesthood. 

Under  these  circumstances  the  idol  worship  went  on  for  some  time 
until  there  came  one  day  to  the  house  of  Micah  a  wandering  Levite, 
by  the  name  of  Jonathan.  This  man  seemed  to  be  out  of  employment, 
and  being  ofthe  Levites,  the  tribe  set  apart  for  the  holy  offices,  Micah 
thought  he  should  do  well  to  retain  him  as  his  family  priest.  Accord- 
ingly he  made  to  him  proposals  to  this  effect,  offering  him  for  his  ser- 
vices, his  board,  one  suit  of  clothes,  and  a  small  sum  of  money  a  year, 
Jonathan  very  gladly  agreed  to  these  terms  and  was  forthwith  consti- 
tuted priest. 

It  happened  soon  after  that  there  came  to  Micah's  house  a  number 
of  men  who  had  been  sent  out  by  the  tribe  of  Dan,  to  survey  the  ad- 
jacent country  with  a  view  to  enlarging  their  own  territories.  When 
these  men  came  to  Micah's  house,  they  recognized  with  surprise  the 
voice  of  the  newly  consecrated  priest.  They  inquired  how  he  came 
there,  and  what  he  was  about.  The  Levite  told  them  his  story  ;  and 
the  Danites  seem  to  have  regarded  the  circumstances  of  the  affair  as 
perfectly  proper;  for  they  even  requested  that  he  would  inquire  ofthe 
Lord  for  them,  if  they  should  meet  with  success  in  their  present  ex- 
pedition. The  Levite  pretended  to  make  the  inquiry  and  returned  to 
them  a  favorable  answer.  The  event  was  such  as  the  Levite  predict- 
ed. The  Danites  succeeded  in  driving  before  them  the  inhabitants  of 
the  territories  they  wished  to  possess.  After  the  conquest,  as  the  army 
were  passing  the  house  of  Micah,  the  five  men  who  had  first  been  sent 
out  and  who  had  stopped  at  this  liouse,  informed  the  others  that  there 
were  in  it  a  graven  and  a  molten  image  and  a  priest  with  an  ephcd ; 
and,  perhaps,  intimating  that  in  their  new  settlement  they  would 
themselves  need  such  an  establisliiuent,  they  inquired  what  had  best 
be  done.  Af^er  some  deliberation,  it  was  agreed  forcibly  to  take  from 
Micah  his  images  and  the  sacerdotal  garments,  and  to  entice  the  priest 
to  go  witli  them.  Accordingly,  while  the  rest  of  the  army  remained 
as  guards  at  the  entrance  of  the  house,  the  five  men  before  mentioned 
went  in  and  connnenced  their  iU^^)  redations.  The  priest  inquired  in 
amazement  what  they  were  abou  .  "  Hush  !"  said  the  men  ;  ''say  noth- 
ing, and  go  witli  us ;  will  it  not  l)e  more  to  your  advantage,  to  be  the 
priest  of  a  whole  tribe  tlian  of  only  one  man  ?"  The  Levite  was  over- 
joyed at  tlie  proposal  aiul  prepared  immediately  to  set  out  with  them. 

Great  was  the  dismay  of  Mieah  upon  finding  himself  thus  robbed 
of  priest  and  gods.  He  called  his  neighbors  to  his  assistance  and  col- 
lecting a  small  company  together,  he  went  in  pursuit  of  the  depreda- 
tors. As  he  approaciieil  the  army  they  inquired  of  him  why  he  had 
come  out  with  such  a  company.  "  What  ails  you  ?"  said  they.  "  What 
ails  me .'"  replied  Micali,  '*  you  have  taken  from  me  my  priest  and  my 


STUDY  OF  THE   BIBLE.  201 

Two  specimens  on  the  same  subjecU 

gods,  and  now  you  ask  ichat  ails  me." — "  You  had  better  return  to  your 
house,"  said  some  one  of  the  number,  *'  or  you  will  lose  your  life." — 
Seeing  that  there  was  no  possibility  of  prevailing  against  hundreds  of 
armed  men,  Micah  took  the  advice  of  the  Danite  and  returned  home. 
Meanwhile  the  army  of  the  Danites  pursued  their  way  to  the  place 
of  their  destination,  where  they  established  the  worship  of  their  stolen 
images  under  the  direction  of  the  runaway  priest." 

The  two  following  are  upon  the  same  subject,  but  the  writers 
were  17  and  11  years  cf  age.  They  are  accordingly  very 
different  ni  their  style  and  character. 

belshazzar's  feast. 

"  The  king  of  Babylon,  named  Belshazzar,  made  a  great  feast  for  all 
his  lords,  his  wives  and  concubines.  And  he  sent  and  took  from  the 
house  of  the  Lord,  the  golden  and  silver  vessels.and  he  and  his  company 
drank  wine  out  of  them.  While  they  were  enjoying  in  impious  mirth, 
the  feast,  the  fingers  of  a  man's  hand  were  seen  on  the  plastering  of  the 
wall,  over  against  the  candlestick.  Then  was  the  king  very  much  fright- 
ened, and  his  knees  smote  against  each  other,  he  sent  for  all  the  wise 
men  in  the  kingdom,  to  read  the  writing  but  they  could  not.  Then  he 
called  aloud  again,  if  any  can  man  readmit  he  shall  be  clothed  in  scarlet, 
and  have  a  chain  of  gold  around  his  neck,  and  shall  be  the  third  ruler 
in  the  kingdom.  Then  came  in  his  wife  the  queen,  to  tell  him  that 
there  was  a  man  who  could  interpret  dreams,  whose  name  was  Daniel. 
He  read  the  writing.  Mene  ;  God  hath  finished  thy  kingdom.  Tekel ; 
Thou  art  weighed  and  art  found  wanting. 

Pere  ;  thy  kingdom  is  given  to  the  Medes  and  Persians.  Then  was 
a  proclamation  made  that  he  was  the  third  ruler  in  the  kingdom. 

And  the  same  night  the  king  died." 

STORY    OF    belshazzar. 

"It  was  night ;  but  the  usual  stillness  of  that  hour  was  broken  by  the 
sounds  of  feasting  and  revelry.  It  had  been  a  festival  day  in  Babylon, 
and  the  inhabitants  had  not  yet  sunk  into  repose.  The  song  and  the  dance 
still  continued,  and  the  voice  of  music  was  heard.  AH  seemed  in  per- 
fect security,  and  no  precautions  had  been  taken  to  avoid  the  danger 
which  hung  over  their  devoted  heads.  An  invading  army  was,  even 
then,  surrounding  the  walls  of  the  city,  but  those  who  ought  to  have 
defended  it,  confident  and  secure,  left  it  unguarded  and  exposed  to  the 
attacks  of  the  enemy.  Fear  was  excluded  even  from  the  walls  of  the 
palace,  and  the  monarch  was  giving  his  own  example  of  rioting  and 
mirth  to  his  subjects.  A  thousand  of  the  noblest  lords  in  his  kingdom 
w^ere  feasting  with  him,  as  his  invited  guests.  They  had  already 
''  tarried  long  at  the  wine,"  when  Belshazzar,  in  the  pride  and  impiety 
of  his  heart  commanded  his  servants  to  bring  the  silver  and  golden 
vessels  which  had  been  taken  by  his  grandfather  Nebuchadnezzar  from 
the  Temple  at  Jerusalem.  They  were  brought,  and  filled  with  wine  ; 
and  as  they  drank  it,  they  extolled  their  gods  of  Avood  and  of  stone. 

But  while  they  were  thus  sacrilegiously  employed,  their  mirth  was 
suddenly  changed  into  amazement  and  consternation.     A  hand  like 


202  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Questions.  4.  Collating  the  Scriptures. 

that  of  a  man  was  seen  to  write  upon  the  wall  of  the  palace ;  and  as 
they  gazed  upon  it,  it  traced  the  sentence,  "Mene,  Mene,  Tekel,  Uphar- 
sin."  No  one  among  that  vast  company,  understood  its  meaning,  but 
to  their  affrighted  imagination,  it  was  full  of  portentous  import.  The 
king,  who  was  exceedingly  terrified,  sent  in  haste,  for  all  the  astrolo- 
gers, and  those  persons  in  whose  powers  of  divination  he  had  been  ac- 
customed to  place  confidence  :  but  none  could  explain  the  mysterious 
warning.  At  this  juncture,  the  queen  entered,  and  informed  the  king 
that  Daniel  was  in  the  city,  and  that  he  was  supposed  to  possess  the 
wisdom  of  the  Gods.  He  was  hastily  summoned  into  the  royal  pres- 
ence, and  after  reproving  the  trembling  and  condemned  monarch  for 
the  pride  of  heart  which  he  had  manifested,  revealed  to  him  the  doom 
which  was  pronounced  upon  him.  He  told  him  that  his  kingdom  and 
his  own  life  were  nearly  at  a  close,  that  his  empire  should  be  divided 
between  the  Medes  and  Persians  :  and  also  that  his  own  character  had 
been  examined,  and  found  lamentably  deficient. 

The  reward  which  had  been  promised  was  now  bestowed  upon  Dan- 
iel. He  was  arrayed  in  a  kingly  robe,  adorned  with  a  golden  chain, 
and  proclaimed  the  third  in  authority  in  the  kingdom.  Ere  the  next 
rising  sun,  Belshazzar  was  numbered  with  the  dead. 

QUESTIONS. 

At  what  time,  and  under  what  circumstances  had  the  golden  and 
silver  vessels  been  taken  from  the  Temple  at  Jerusalem  ? 

In  wha.t  language  was  the  writing  upon  the  wall;  and  why  could 
no  one  of  the  wise  men  of  Babylon  interpret  it.' 

Why  were  the  Chaldeans  included  among  the  astrologers  and  sooth- 
sayers .'' 

The  original  writing  was,  "  Mene,  Mene,  Tekel,  Upharsin  ;"  why 
in  the  interpretation  is  Peres  substituted  for  Upharsin  ?" 

It  is  a  very  good  plan  to  write  questions  at  the  close  of 
such  an  exercise,  as  in  the  last  specimen,  bringing  up  diffi- 
culties which  have  occurred  to  the  writer,  while  reading  and 
writing  the  account.  The=e  questions  can  be  subsequently 
proposed  to  some  person  qualified  to  answer  them.  The 
whole  plan  may  be  adopted  more  or  less  extensively,  accord- 
ing to  the  time  and  the  task  of  the  individual.  1  knew  a 
young  man  who  re-M^rote  the  whole  book  of  the  Acts  in  this 
way."  The  result  he  preserved  in  a  neat  manuscript,  and  the 
eftort  undoubtedly  impressed  the  facts  on  his  memory,  with  ii 
distinctness  which  remained  for  3^ears. 

4.  CoIlafin<>-  the  Scrip/urns.  The  next  method  I  shall 
describe,  by  which  variety  and  efficiency  can  be  given  to  your 
study  of  the  Scriptures  maybe  called  collation.  It  consists  of 
carefully  compnring  two  or  more  different  accounts  of  the 
same  transaction. 

To  illustrate  it  I  will  imngine  thnt  two  young  persons  sit 
down,  on  a  Sabbath  afternoon,  by  their  fireside,  to  read  the 


STUDY  OF  THE   BIBLE.  203 

Plan  tried  by  James  and  Jolin. 

Bible,  and  they  conclude  to  collate  the  several  accounts  of 
Paul's  conversion.  To  show  that  this  exercise  does  not  re- 
quire any  advanced  age,  or  maturity  of  mind,  I  will  imagine 
that  the  scholars  are  quite  young,  and  will  give  in  detail  the 
conversation,  as  we  might  imagine  it,  in  such  a  case  to  be. 
We  will  suppose  James  to  be  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  of 
age,  and  John  some  years  younger. 

John.     "  Well,  w^hat  shall  we  read  ?" 

James.  "  1  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  for  us  to  read 
and  compare  the  two  accounts  of  the  conversion  of  Paul. 
Here  is  the  first  account,  in  the  ninth  chapter  of  the  Acts  and 
I  believe  he  afterwards  gave  some  account  of  it  himself  in 
his  speech." 

John.     "  What  speech  ?" 

James  "  Some  speech  he  made  at  his  trial.  I  will  try  to 
find  it.  It  is  some  where  in  the  last  part  of  the  book  of 
Acts." 

The  boys  turn  over  the  leaves  of  their  Bibles,  until  at  last 
James  says, 

"  Here  it  is.     I  have  found  it.     It  is  in  the  26th  chapter." 

"  No ;"  says  John,  "  it  is  in  the  22d ; — it  begins  at  the  4th 
verse. 

Jam.es.  "  Let  me  see  it.  Oh,  there  are  tw^o  accounts  in 
his  speeches.  That  makes  three  in  all.  Would  you  com- 
pare them  all  ?" 

John.  "  Yes  we  can  put  our  fingers  into  all  the  places, 
and  read  one  verse  of  one,  and  then  one  verse  of  another, 
and  so  go  through." 

James.  "  Well,  let  us  see  where  these  two  speeches  were 
made." 

The  boys  then  examine  the  introductory  remarks  connec- 
ted with  these  two  addresses  of  the  Apostle,  and  learn  before 
whom  and  under  what  circumstances  they  were  made,  and 
then  proceed  with  their  comparison. 

James,     "  I  will  read  first  in  the  ninth  chapter." 

1.  "And  Saul  yet  breathing  out  threatenings  and  slaugh- 
ter against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord,  went  unto  the  high 
priest, 

2.  And  desired  of  him  letters  to  Damascus  to  the  syna- 
gogues, that  if  he  found  any  of  this  way,  whether  they  w^ere 
men  or  women,  he  might  bring  them  bound  unto  Jerusalem." 

"  Now  you  may  read  as  much,"  he  continues,  "  in  the  22d 
chapter." 


204  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Effect  of  this  meihod.  Three  accounts  of  Paul's  conversion. 

John.     "  Where  shall  I  begin  ?" 

James.  (Looking  at  the  passage,)  "iVt  the  5th  verse, — I 
believe." 

John.  (Reading).  5.  "  As  also  the  High  Priest  doth 
bear  me  witness,  and  all  the  estate  of  the  elders  ;  from  whom 
also  I  received  letters  unto  the  brethren,  and  went  to  Damas- 
cus, to  bring  them  which  were  there  bound  unto  Jerusalem 
for  to  be  punished." 

"  Do  you  see  any  difference,  James?" 

James.  "  Yes,  there  are  two  differences.  It  says  in  the 
first  account,  that  he  took  letters  from  the  High  Priest 
alone,  and  in  the  second,  from  the  Elders  too, — all  the  estate 
of  the  Elders.  It  says,  too,  in  the  first  account,  that  his  let- 
ters were  to  the  syn,agogues,  but  in  the  second,  that  they 
were  to  the  brethren." 

Boys  of  twelve  years  of  age  would  probably  see  no  far- 
ther than  to  notice  such  obvious  points  of  comparison  as 
those  I  have  mentioned.  But  a  maturer  mind  attempting 
this  same  exercise  would  go  far  deeper,  and  w^ith  a  conse- 
quentl}'-  stronger  interest  into  the  subject.  Such  an  one  will 
take  a  great  pleasure  in  observing  how  every  expression  in 
the  account  in  the  22d  chapter,  corresponds  with  the  circum- 
stances in  which  Paul  was  placed.  He  was  in  Jerusalem  ; 
a  great  popular  tumult  had  been  excited  against  him.  A 
few  of  his  determined  enemies  had,  by  the  arts  with  which 
it  is  always  easy  for  bad  men  to  inflame  the  multitude,  urged 
them  on  almost  to  fury,  and  an  immense  throng  had  gath- 
ered around  him,  with  the  marks  of  the  most  determined 
hostility  in  their  looks  and  gestures  and  actions.  At  this 
moment  a  Jiloman  military  force  appeared  for  his  rescue.  He 
was  drawn  out  from  the  crowd  and  standing  upon  the  stairs 
of  the  castle  above  the  tumultuous  sea  from  which  he  had 
been  saved,  he  attempts  to  address  the  assembly. 

He  had  been  represented  to  the  crowd  as  a  foreigner — an 
Eg3'"ptian  who  had  come  to  Jerusalem  to  excite  sedhion  and 
tumult,  and  of  course  his  first  aim  would  naturally  be  to 
destroy  this  impression,  and  present  himself  before  this  as- 
sembly as  their  fellow  countryman — one  who  had  long  resi- 
ded among  them,  ami  had  regarded  them  as  brethren.  How 
natural  is  it,  therefore,  that  he  should  speak  so  distinctly  of 
his  connexion  with  the  Jewish  nation.  He  commences  his 
account  with  the  statement  that  he  is  a  Jew, — by  birth,  by 
education  and  by  feelings.    This  peculiarity  in  the  speaker's 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  205 

Advantages  of  the  plau.  List  of  lessons. 

condition  accounts  most  fullj  and  in  a  most  interesting  man- 
ner, for  the  dilierence  between  the  expressions  which  he  uses 
here,  and  those  used  in  the  narrative  in  9th  chapter,  Where 
m  the  narrative,  the  Hi,g/i  Priest  only,  was  alluded  to,  in  the 
defence,  the  speaker  mentions  respectfully  all  the  estate  of 
the  Elders:  The  historian  by  employing  the  simple  histor- 
ical style,  says  that  Paul  went  with  letters  to  \he  synagogues. 
The  orator,  in  his  effort  to  allay  irritated  feeling,  uses  the 
word  brethren,  a  term  equally  correct,  but  far  more  suitable 
for  his  purpose. 

I  make  these  remarks,  not  to  go  into  a  commentary  upon 
Paul's  speech,  but  to  shew  what  kind  of  reflections  will  oc- 
cur to  a  mature  or  to  an  intelligent  mind,  in  thus  collating 
different  portions  of  the  sacred  volume.  Notice  every  differ- 
ence ;  and  endeavor  to  discover  in  the  circumstances  of  the 
case  its  cause.  You  will  find  by  so  doing  that  new  and 
striking  beauties  will  arise  to  view  at  every  step.  The  pages 
of  the  Bible  will  look  brighter  and  brighter  with  meaning 
hitherto  unseen,  and  you  will  find  new  exhibitions  of  char- 
acter and  conduct  so  natural  and  yet  so  simple,  as  to  consti- 
tute almost  irresistible  evidence  of  the  reality  of  the  scenes 
which  the  sacred  history  describes. 

There  are  a  great  many  of  the  events  of  Scripture  history 
of  which  two  different  accounts  are  given,  in  the  Bible,  which 
may  be  advantageously  collated  in  the  manner  I  have  de- 
scribed. In  hopes  that  some  of  my  readers  will  study  the 
Scriptures  in  this  way  I  enumerate  some  of  them. 

LESSONS. 

Solomon's  Choice.      1   Kings  and  2  Chronicles. 

Dedication  of  the  Temple.     1   Kings,  2  Chronicles. 

Revolt  of  the  Ten  Tribes.     1   Kings,  2  Chronicles. 

Story  of  Elisha, 

Story  of  Elijah. 

Story  of  Hezekiah.     Kings,  Chronicles  and  Isaiah. 

Genealogical  Line  from  Adam  to  Abraham.  Genesis  and 
1  Chronicles. 

Catalogue  of  the  Kings  of  Israel.  Kings  and  Chroni- 
cles. 

Catalogue  of  the  Kings  of  Judah.     Kings  and  Chronicles. 

Preaching  of  John  the  Baptist.  Matthew,  Mark,  Luke, 
and  John. 

The  Temptation  of  Christ.     Matthew,  Mark,  and  Luke. 

The  Saviour's  Arrest     Four  Evangelists. 
18 


205  VOUNO    CHRISTIAN, 


His  Trial.     Four  Evangelists, 

His  Dca'A.  Four  Evangelists. 

His  Resurrection.     Four  Evangelists 

fc;a«i.««<./-(Ac  LonlsSufper.    Matthew  and  1  Cor.nlh- 


Lnealo<'Vof  Christ.     Matthew  and  Luke 

The  atove  subjects  vary  very  much  in  the  degree  of  intel- 

1     7     1  pffnrt  necessarv  for  their  examination,  and  in  nearly 

alftre  m^   leU  re7re^     will  himself  often  be  involved  m 

dfficuCs  which  he  cannot  easily  remove      ".-<=  "^7;^? 

Errttstn!;:= 

^^h^^r^  !f:s:ribmg,  ^^^j^^^  ^^o  unS:: 

Uemlv  seek  solutions  from  commentaries  and  from  old  i 
rhnsrians  and  what  you  cannot,  by  these  means,  understand, 
^netlv  kave      A  book  which  under  divme  guidance  em- 

it  Xk  yon  mil  ««  «!«•  "■  ""I"""''  '"">' '»  ■  S 


STUDY  or  THE  BIBLE.  207 

The  Sabbath.  Jerusalem.  List  of  topics. 

as  far  as  the  Evangelists  bring  it,  yon  take  up  the  book  of  the 
Acts  and  go  through  that,  for  niformation  in  regard  to  this 
Apostle — omitting  those  parts  which  relate  to  other  subjects. 
In  this  way  you  become  fully  acquainted  with  his  charac- 
ter and  history  ; — you  understand  it  as  a  whole. 

Jerusalem  is  another  good  subject,  and  the  examination 
would  afford  scope  for  the  exercise  of  the  faculties  of  the 
highest  minds  for  maii}^  Sabbaths.  Find  when  the  city  is  first 
nam.ed,  and  from  the  manner  in  which  it  is  mentioned  and 
the  circumstances  connected  with  the  earliest  accounts  of  it, 
ascertain  what  sort  of  a  city  it  was  at  that  time.  Then  fol- 
low its  history  down : — notice  the  changes  as  they  occur  ; 
understand  every  revolution, — examine  the  cii-cumstances  of 
every  battle  and  seige  of  which  it  is  the  scene, — and  thus 
become  acquainted  with  its  whole  story  down  to  the  time 
when  the  sacred  narration  leaves  it.  To  do  this  well,  will 
require  patient  and  careful  iaivestigation.  You  cannot  do  it 
as  you  can  read  a  chapter, — carelessly  and  w^ith  an  imcon- 
cerned  and  uninterested  mind.  You  must,  if  you  would 
succeed  in  such  an  investigation,  engage  in  it  in  earnest 
And  that  is  the  very  advantage  of  such  a  method  of  study, 
it  breaks  up  effectually  that  habit  of  listless,  dull,  inatten- 
tive reading  of  the  Bible,  which  so  extensively  prevails. 

You  may  take  the  subject  of  the  Sabbath.  Examine  the 
C'lrcumstances  of  its  first  appointment,  and  then  follow  its 
history  down,  so  far  as  it  is  given  in  the  Bible,  to  the  last 
Sabbath  alluded  to  on  the  sacred  pages. 

The  variety  of  topics  which  might  profitably  be  studied 
in  this  way  is  vastly  greater  than  would  at  first  be  supposed- 
There  are  a  great  number  of  biographical  and  geographical 
topics — a  great  number  which  relate  to  manners  and  customs 
and  sacred  instructions.  In  fact,  the  whole  Bible  may  be 
analyzed  in  this  way,  and  its  various  contents  brought  before 
the  mind  in  new  aspects,  and  with  a  freshness  and  vividness 
which,  in  the  mere  repeated  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  in  reg- 
ular course,  can  never  be  seen.  It  may  assist  the  reader  who 
is  disposed  to  try  the  experiment,  if  I  present  a  small  list  It 
might  be  extended  easily  to  ^ny  length. 

BIOGRAPHICAL    TOPICS. 

Hezekiah.  Herod^ 

Daniel.  John  the  Baptist. 

Elijah.  Peter. 


208  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


Topics.  Too  liille  iulelleclual  study  of  ihe  Bible. 

Elisiia.  Nicodemus, 

Isaiah-  Judas. 

Jeremiah. 

GEOGRAPHICAL  AND   HISTORICAL  TOPICS. 

Jerusalem.  Sea  of  GaUilee. 

Egypt.  Tyre. 

Nile.  Sidon. 

Babylon.  Philistines. 

Red  Sea.  Moabites. 

Jordan.  Ammonites. 

Damascus.  Ethiopia. 
Samaria.. 

TOPICS  RELATING  TO    RELIGIOUS  RITES. 

Sacrifices.  Fasting. 

Sabbath.  Ark  of  the  Covenant, 

Pentecost.  Tabernacle. 

Fccist  of  Tabernacles-  Lord' s  Supper. 

Passover  Synagogues. 

There  are  various  other  methods  which  might  be  mention- 
ed and  described,  but  enough  has  been  said  to  enable,  1  think,, 
any  one  who  is  disposed,  to  engage  at  once,  for  a  short  time 
each  Sabbath,  in  such  an  inieliectual  study  of  the  Bible. 
Parents  can  try  the  experiments  I  have  above  described  in 
their  families,  and  Sabbath  School  teachers  can  try  them  in 
their  classes.  Sabbath  Schools  would  be  astonishingly  im- 
proved at  once,  if  the  teachers  would  put  their  ingenuity 
into  requisition  to  devise  and  execute  new  plans,  so  as  to  give 
variety  to  the  exercises.  There  would  be  a  spirit  and  interest 
exhibited  both  by  teacher  and  pupil,  which  the  mere  servile 
reading  of  printed  questions  and  listening  to  answers  me- 
chanically committed,  never  can  produce. 

There  is  far  too  little  of  this  intellectual  study  of  the  Bible, 
even  among  the  most  devoted  Christians.  Its  literature,  its 
history,  its  biography — the  connection  of  its  parts — all  are 
very  little  understood.  It  is  indeed  true  that  the  final  aim 
of  the  Bible  is  to  teach  us  personal  religunis  duty.  It  comes 
to  the  conscience,  not  to  the  literan/  taste  of  men  ; — and  is 
designed  to  guide  their  devotions,  not  to  gratify  their  curios- 
ity, or  their  love  of  historic  tnith.  But  why  isit  that  God  has 
chosen  the  historic  fonu,  as  a  means  of  communicating  his 
truth?  Why  is  it  that  his  communications  with  mankind 
were,  for  so  many  years,  so  completely  involved  with  the  po. 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  209 

Object  of  the  historic  form.  Reading  practically. 

litical  history  of  a  powerful  nation,  that  that  whole  history 
must  be  given  ?  Why  is  our  Saviour's  mission  so  connected 
with  the  Roman  Government,  and  all  this  connection  so  fully 
detailed,  that  no  inconsiderable  portion  of  the  geography  and 
customs  and  laws  of  that  mighty  empire  are  detailed  in  the 
Evangelists  and  Acts?  The  moral  lessons  which  our  Sa- 
viour taught,  might  have  been  presented  in  their  simple  di- 
dactic form.  The  whole  plan  of  salvation,  through  the  blood 
of  a  Redeemer,  might  have  been  given  us  in  one  single  state- 
ment, instead  of  leaving  us  to  gather  it  piece  by  piece,  from 
multitudes  of  narratives  and  addresses  and  letters.  Why  is 
it,  then,  that  instead  of  one  siuxple  proclamation  from  the 
Majesty  on  high,  w^e  have  sixty  or  seventy  different  books, 
introducing  us  to  the  public  history  of  twenty  nations,  and 
to  the  minutest  incidents  in  the  biographies  of  a  thousand 
men  ?  Why  it  is  that  we  may  be  excited  by  the  interest  of 
incident  and  story  ; — that  religion  and  impiety  may  be  respec- 
tively presented  to  us,  in  living  and  acting  reality,and  that  the 
principles  of  God's  government  and  of  his  dealing  with  men, 
may  come  to  us  in  all  the  vividness  of  actual  fact.  If  then, 
we  neglect  to  understand  this  history  as  history,  and  to  enter 
into  all  the  incidents  which  ar-e  detailed,  we  lose  the  very 
benefit  which  the  Spirit  had  in  view,  in  making  the  Bible 
such  a  volume  as  it  is.  Without  such  an  occasional  effort  to 
make  the  Scriptures  a  study — examining  them  intellectually ; 
comparing  one  part  with  another,  and  endeavoring  to  bring 
vividly  to  view  the  scenes  which  they  present  to  our  minds, 
it  may  safely  be  said  that  no  one  can  truly  understand  the 
Bible,  or  enter  into  the  spirit  of  its  descriptions,  its  warnings 
and  its  appeals. 

But  after  all,  the  great  object  in  studying  the  Bible,  is  not 
merely  to  understand  it.  The  revelation  which  God  has 
made  is  a  message  sent,  not  to  the  intellect,  but  to  the  con- 
sr-iences  and  hearts  of  men;  and  unless  it  reaches  the  con- 
science and  the  heart,  it  entirely  fails  of  accomplishing  its 
object.  We  ought,  indeed,  to  gain  an  intellectual  knowledge 
of  it,  but  that  is  only  to  be  considered  as  a  means,  to  enable 
us  the  more  fully  to  apply  to  our  own  characters  and  conduct, 
the  practical  lessons  which  it  teaches. 

The  Sabbath  seems  for  most  persons,  the  most  proper  time 

for  the  systematic  study  of  the  Scriptures,  but  a  portion  of  it 

should  be  read  practically  every  day.     This  part  of  my  sub- 

jiect  does  not  need  so  full  an  illustration  as  the  other,  for  the 

*18 


210  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Daily  reading  of  the  Bible.  Lseless  reading.  The  Apprentice. 

great  difficuliy  in  regard  to  reading  the  Scriptures  practical- 
ly, is  a  want  of  disposition  to  do  it,  1  hey  who  really  wish 
to  learn  their  duty,  and  overcome  their  temptations,  who  de- 
sire that  the  sins  of  their  hearts  and  lives  should  be  brought 
to  their  view  by  the  word  of  God,  will  easily  make  for  them- 
selves an  application  of  the  truths  which  the  Bible  contains. 
Will  not  all  my  readers  do  this  faithfully  and  persevering- 
ly  ?  Resolve  to  bring  a  short  portion  of  the  preceptive  or  de- 
votional parts  of  the  Scriptures,  home  to  your  heart  every 
day; — and  let  your  object  be,in  this  daily  reading  of  the  Bible,, 
not  so  muchto  extend  your  intellectual  view  of  the  field  opened 
to  you  in  its  pages,  as  to  increase  its  moral  and  spiritual  influ- 
ence upon  your  heart  and  conduct.  Be  not  so  careful,  then,, 
to  read  this  exact  quantity,  or  that.  But  to  bring  home  some 
portion,  really  and  fully  to  the  heart  and  to  the  conscience, — 
to  do  It  so  forcibly  that  the  influence  of  those  few  verses^ 
read  and  pondered  in  the  morning  will  go  through  the  day. 

Reading  the  Bible,  is,  however,  sometimes  practised  with 
a  very  ditierent  spirit  from  this.  A  boy,  for  example,  whose 
parent  or  whose  Sabbtith  School  teacher  has  convinced  him,, 
that  he  ought  to  read  the  Bible  daily,  takes  his  book  and  sits 
down  by  the  fire,  and  reads  away  rapidly  and  thoughtlessly,, 
the  portion  which  comes  in  course.  He  looks  up,  occasionally 
to  observe  the  sports  of  his  brothers  and  sisters, — or  to  join  in 
their  conversation,  and  then  returns  again  to  the  verse  he 
left.  In  fifteen  minutes  he  rises  from  his  seat,  shuts  his  book 
and  pushes  it  into  its  place  upon  the  shelf,  saying,^  "  there — 
I  have  read  my  chapter :" — And  this  is  the  last  he  knows 
or  thinks  of  the  Bible,  during  the  day. 

Consider,  now,  another  case.  In  an  unfurnished  and  al- 
most an  unfinished  little  room  in  some  crowded  alley  of  a 
populous  city,  you  may  see  a  lad  who  has  just  arisen  from 
his  humble  bed,  and  is  ready  to  go  forth  to  his  daily  du- 
ties. He  is  a  young  apprentice, — and  must  almost  immedi- 
ately go  forth  to  kindle  his  morning  fire,  and  to  prepare  his 
place  of  business  for  the  labors  of  the  day.  He  first  however 
takes  his  little  testament  from  his  chest, — and  breathes,  while 
he  opens  it,  a  silent  prayer,  that  God  will  fix  the  lesson  that 
he  is  about  to  read  upon  his  conscience  and  his  heart.  "  Holy 
Spirit !"  whispers  he,  "  let  me  apply  the  instiiictions  of  this 
book  to  myself — and  let  me  be  governed  by  it  to-day — so  that 
I  may  perform  faithfully  all  my  duties  to  myself,  to  my 
companions — to  my  master  and  to  Thee."     He  opens  the 


STUDY  OF  THE  BIBLE.  21  1 

Reading  two  verses  aright. 

book,  and  reads,  perhaps  as  follows : — "  Be  kindly  affection- 
ed  one  to  another,  with  brotherly  love,  in  honor  preferring 
one  another."  He  pauses — his  faithful  self-applying  thoughts 
run  through  the  scenes  through  which  he  is  that  day  to  pass 
and  he  considers  in  what  cases  this  verse  ought  to  nifluence 
him.  '  Be  kindly  affectioned  P  I  must  treat  my  brothers  and 
sisters,  and  all  my  companions  kindly  to-day.  I  must  try  to 
save  them  trouble  and  to  promote  their  happiness.  '/?«.  honor 
preferring  one  another.'  As  he  sees  these  words  he  sighs  to 
reflect  how  many  times  he  has  been  jealous  of  his  fellow  ap- 
prentices, on  account  of  marks  of  trust  and  favor  shown  to 
them, — or  envious  of  the  somewhat  superior  privileges  enjoy- 
ed by  those  older  than  himself, — and  he  prays  that  God  will 
forgive  him,  and  make  him  humble,  and  kind  hearted  in  fu- 
ture to  all  around  him. 

"  'Not  slothful  in  business  ;  fervent  in  spirit ;  serving  the 
Lordy^  He  stops  to  reflect  whether  he  is  habitually  indus- 
trious— improving  all  his  time  in  such  a  manner  as  to  be  of 
the  greatest  advantage  to  his  master  ; — whether  he  is  fervent 
in  spirit,  i.  e.  cordially  devoted  to  God's  service,  and  full  of 
benevolent  desires  for  the  happiness  of  all : — whether  he 
serves  the  Lord  in  what  he  does,  i.  e.  whether  all  his  duties 
are  discharged  from  motives  of  love  to  his  maker  and  preser- 
ver. While  he  thus  muses,  the  fire  burns.  He  shuts  his 
book — asks  God  to  protect  him,  as  he  now  must  go  out  into 
the  labours  and  temptations  of  the  day.  God  does  bless  and 
protect  him.  He  has  read,  indeed,  but  two  verses  ; — but  these 
verses  he  carries  in  his  heart,  and  they  serve  as  a  memorial 
of  kindness  and  love  to  man,  and  fidelity  towards  God,  which 
accompanies  him  wherever  he  goes,  and  keeps  him  safe  and 
happy.  The  Bible  is  thus  a  light  to  his  feet  and  a  lamp  to 
his  paths.  Which,  now,  of  these,  do  you  think  reads  the 
Bible  aright  1 

Let  no  child  who  reads  this,  understand  me  to  say,  that  I 
consider  two  verses  enough  of  the  Bible  to  read  each  day. 
What  I  mean  by  this  case  is,  that  so  much  more  depends  upon 
the  spirit  and  manner  with  which  the  Bible  is  read,  than  the 
quantity — that  a  very  small  portion,  properly  read,  may  be  far 
more  useful  than  a  much  larger  quantity  hurried  over  in  a 
careless  and  thoughtless  manner.  No  precise  rules  can  be 
given  in  regard  to  quantity.  It  must  vary  with  circumstan- 
ces and  of  these  the  individual  must  in  most  cases  be  the 
judge. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE  SABBATH. 

*'  Remember  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy." 

My  readers  are  undoubtedly,  generally  aware,  that  the  pres- 
ent obligation  to  keep  the  Sabbath  has  been  by  some  persons 
denied,  on  the  ground  that  keeping  one  day  in  seven,  holy,  is 
a  sort  of  ceremony,  and  that  it  wasonly  intended  to  be  required 
of  the  Jewish  nation.  I  do  not  intend  in  this  chapter  to  enter 
at  all  into  a  discussion  of  that  subject.  Most,  if  not  all  of 
those  who  will  read  this  book  are  undoubtedly  satisfied  in 
regard  to  it.  I  will,  however,  simply  state  the  facts,  on  the 
ground  of  which,  the  present  binding  authority  of  the  Lord's 
day  is  generally  admitted  by  Christians. 

As  soon  as  God  had  finished  the  creation,  it  is  stated  that 
"he  rested  on  the  seventh  day  and  sanctified  it;" — that  is, 
he  set  it  apart  for  a  sacred  use.  The  time  and  the  circum- 
stances under  which  this  was  done,  sufficiently  indicate  that 
it  was  intended  to  apply  to  the  whole  race,  and  to  extend 
through  all  time.  A  ceremony  solemnly  established  at  the 
foundation  of  an  empire,  would  be  universallj^  considered  as 
designed  to  extend  as  far  and  continue  as  long  as  the  empire 
itself  should  extend  and  continue,  unless  it  should  be  distinct- 
ly repealed.  And  so  with  a  duty  established  at  the  founda- 
tion of  a  world. 

Many  years  afterwards,  the  Creator  gave  a  very  distinct 
code  of  laws  to  his  people,  the  Jews.  These  laws  were  of 
two  kinds  cereniomal  and  moral.  It  was  the  design  of  the 
former  to  be  binding  only  upon  the  Jewish  nation,  the  latter 
are  of  permanent  and  universal  authority. 

The  ceremonial  laws  were  merely  repeated  to  Moses,  and 


THE  SABBATH.  213 


History  of  the  Sabbath.  Change  from  Saturday  to  Sunday. 

he  made  a  record  of  them ;  you  will  find  them  in  nearly  all 
the  chapters  of  Leviticus  and  Deuteronomy.  All  the  regu- 
lations relating  to  sacrifices  are  of  this  character.  The  moral 
laws  were,  however,  given  in  the  most  solemn  manner  from 
Mount  Smai.  They  are  the  ten  commandments,  and  they 
were  written  by  the  direct  power  of  God,  himself,  upon  tab- 
lets of  stone  which  were  carefully  preserved. 

Now  as  if  to  remove  all  possible  ground  of  doubt  in  regard 
to  his  design,  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath  was  made  the 
subject  of  one  of  these  ten  commandments,  and  it  has  been 
observed  from  that  day  to  this,  by  a  vast  majority  of  all  those 
who  have  wished  to  olDcy  their  maker's  commands. 

These  facts  are  abundantly  sufficient  to  convince  those 
who  are  loilling  to  keep  the  Sabbath,  that  God  intended  that 
all  men  should  keep  it.  They  who  are  not  convinced,  reveal 
by  their  doubts,  their  unwillingness  to  obey.  I  would  advise 
therefore,  any  one  who  has  doubts  about  the  divine  authori- 
ty of  the  Sabbath,  not  to  spend  his  time  in  looking  for  the 
arguments  pro  and  con,  in  this  controversy,  but  to  come  at 
once  to  his  heart.  Ask  j^ourself  this  question  :  "  Do  I  fully 
understand  what  it  is  to  remember  the  Sabbath  day  and  keep 
it  holy,  and  am  I  cordially  and  sincerely  willing  to  do  it?" 
In  the  affirmative  answer  to  this  question,  you  will  find  the 
solution  to  all  your  doubts. 

The  Sabbath  was  observed  from  its  establishment  down  to 
the  coming  of  Christ,  on  the  seventh  day  of  the  week, 
that  is  our  Saturday.  Our  Saviour  rose  from  the  dead  on 
the  day  after  the  Sabbath,  and  we  find  soon  after  his  resur- 
rection, that  the  early  Christians  observed  that  day  instead  of 
the  former  one,  as  sacred  time.  There  is  no  direct  command 
to  do  this,  and  no  indication  that  there  was  any  controversy 
about  it  at  the  time.  They  all  at  once  simultaneously  change. 
They  keep  one  day  in  seven,  as  before,  but  it  is  a  different 
day.  We  infer  that  they  had  some  authority  for  so  doing, 
though  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  that  that  authority  should 
be  specified.  It  is  the  custom  in  most  of  the  Schools  in  New 
England  to  consider  the  afternoon  of  Saturday  a  half-holi- 
day. Now  suppose  a  boy  should  leave  this  country  to  go  on 
a  foreign  voyage,  and  after  being  absent  many  months, 
should  return  and  find  w^hen  Saturday  afternoon  comes,  that 
all  the  boys  in  his  native  town  go  to  school  as  usual, 
but  that  on  Monday  afternoon  the  schools  are  all  suspended. 
He  sees  that  this  is  the  universal  custom,  and  it  continues  so 


214  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Beginning  of  the  Sabbath,  Idle  conlroversiest 

permanently.  Now  it  is  not,  under  these  circumstances,  at 
all  necessary  that  the  original  vote  of  the  school  connnitlee, 
by  which  the  change  was  made  should  come  before  him. 
The  universality  of  the  practice  is  the  best  of  evidence  in 
such  a  case.  No  boy  would  wish  for  more.  Now  it  is  just 
so  with  the  evidence  we  have  that  the  Sabbath  was  changed. 
Suddenly  all  Christians  changed  their  practice.  They 
changed  together,  and  without  any  evidence  of  a  controversy 
and  the  new  arrangement  has  been  adopted  from  that  da}^ 
to  this. 

But  yet  all  persons  are  not  quite  satisfied  about  it,  and  there 
are  various  other  questions  connected  with  the  time  of  the 
Sabbath,  which  have  occasioned,  in  the  minds  of  many 
Christians,  serious  doubt  and  perplexities.  Some  imagine 
that  they  ought  to  have  more  evidence  of  the  change  from 
the  seventh  to  the  first  day  of  the  week — they  think,  too,  that 
the  Sabbath  is  intended  to  be  commemorative  of  God's  rest, 
after  finishing  the  creation,  and  that  this  object  is  lost  by  alter- 
ing the  day ;  and  some  lose  themselves  in  endless  arguments  on 
the  question  whether  sunset,  midnight  or  morning  marks  the 
beginning  of  the  sacred  day.  The  difference  of  ,views  on 
this  subject  produces  some  difference  of  practice.  There  are 
denominations  of  Christians  who  prefer  to  keep  Saturday  as 
holy  time,  and  not  Sunday,  regarding  the  former  as  the 
seventh  day  meant  by  the  commandment.  There  is  a  differ- 
ence of  practice,  too,  in  regard  to  the  time  of  commencing  the 
holy  day. In  some  portions  of  our  land  the  Sabbath  is  under- 
stood to  begin  on  the  evening  of  Saturday, — so  that  when  the 
sun  goes  down,  on  Sunday-  evening,  they  return  totheir  usual 
duties  and  cares.  In  other  places,  midnight  is  considered  as 
the  limit  which  marks  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  sacred 
time. 

The  actual  inconvenience  arising  from  this  diversity  is 
comparatively  slight.  The  great  evil  which  these  differen- 
ces of  opinion  produce,  is  the  interminable  disputes  which 
arise  from  them.  Perhaps  some  of  my  readers,  when  they 
saw  the  subject  of  the  Sabbath  announced,  may  have  been 
curious  to  know  which  side  I  was  going  to  take  in  regard  to 
some  of  these  points  ;  for  example,  on  the  question  whether  it 
is  proper  to  commence  holy  time  on  Saturday  evening  or  on 
Sabbath  morning.  Now  in  fact  I  am  going  to  take  both 
sides.  I  am  going  to  try  to  persuade  you  that  it  is  entirelj' 
immaterial  which  is  adopted,  and  that  the  whole  sitbject  is 


THE    SABBATH.  215 


A  father's  commnnd  to  his  boys 


completely  unworthy  of  being  made  a  matter  of  controversy 
among  Christian  brethren. 

When  God  gives  us  a  command,  I  am  aware  that  we  must 
obey  it  exactly.  But  a  command  is  obeyed  exactly,  if  it  is 
obeyed  in  all  the  particulars  expressed  in  the  words  of  it.  I 
think  the  following  principle  may  be  laid  down  as  fundamen- 
tal in  regard  to  all  laws  partaking  of  a  ceremonial  character, 
human  and  divine.  So  far  as  the  ceremonial  part  is  essential 
it  will  be  distinctly  described  in  the  command.  The  fourth 
command  partakes  of  the  ceremonial  character.  It  is  for 
the  observance  of  a  particular  day.  It  specifies  what  day, 
but  it  does  not  specify  at  what  hour  it  is  to  begin,  and  there- 
fore we  are  left  at  liberty  to  begin  it,  so  as  to  correspond  with 
any  common  mode  of  computing  time. 

But  to  illustrate  the  above  mentioned  principle,  for  it  seeme 
to  me  that  if  it  were  cordially  and  fully  admitted,  it  would 
save  a  vast  number  of  disputes  on  many  other  subjects,  let  us 
suppose  that  a  father,about  to  be  absent  from  his  home,  leaves 
his  two  boys  with  the  command  that  they  should  work,every 
day,  a  little  while  in  the  garden.  Now  in  such  a  case  as 
this,  the  boys  ought  not  to  consider  themselves  as  limited  to 
any  particular  time  for  doing  it.  Thej^  must  consider  their 
father's  design  in  the  command,  and  act  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  comply  with  the  spirit  of  it.  But  they  may  do  as  they 
please  about  the  time  of  beginning.  They  may  work  in  the 
morning,  or  in  the  evening,  or  at  midday,  according  to  their 
own  convenience. 

Suppose,  however,  he  had  been  a  little  more  definite  and 
had  said,  "  I  wish  you  my  boj's,  while  I  am  absent,  to  work 
a  few  hours  every  forenoon,  in  the  garden."  This  would  have 
been  a  little  more  definite.  And  just  so  far  as  it  is  definite 
in  regard  to  the  time,  just  so  far  it  would  be  binding  in  that 
respect.  They  would  not  now  be  at  liberty  to  choose  wheth- 
er they  would  work  forenoon  or  afternoon,  but  still  they  would 
be  at  liberty  in  regard  to  the  precise  time  of  beginning.  If 
one  of  the  boys  should  attempt  to  prove  that  they  ought  to 
begin  exactly  at  half  past  eight,  because  the  father  had  usu- 
ally begun  at  that  hour,  or  because  the  neighbors  did,  the 
other  might  reply  that  the  time  of  beginning  was  not  speci- 
fied in  the  command,  and  they  might,  if  they  chose,  begin  at 
an  earlier  or  later  hour,  if  they  only  honestly  fulfilled  the 
command  by  working  faithfully  as  much  as  they  supposed 
their  father  meant  by  the  expression,  ''a  few  hoursP 


216  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Tiie  question  about  the  clock  and  the  dial. 

Let  US,  however,  make  the  command  more  dehnite  still. 
Imagine  the  father  to  have  said,  "  1  wish  you,  my  sons,  to 
spend //-owi  9  to  12  o'clock  every  day  in  the  garden,  working 
for  me."     This  leaves  them  much  less  discretionary  power. 
The  time  for  beginning  and  ending  is  distinctly  specified,  and 
the  command  is  binding  in  regard  to  these  points  of  form 
and  manner,  just  so  far  as  they  are  distinctlj^  specified.     Still 
there  is  room  for  a  dispute.     The  spirit  which  makes  so  much 
of  a  controversy  on  the  question  whether  holy  time  begins 
at  sundown  or  at  midnight,  would  have  easily  made  a  con- 
troversy here.     For  we  will  suppose  that  there  had  been  a 
clock  in  the  hall  of  the  house,  and  a  dial  in  the  garden.    All 
my  readers  are  aware  I  presume,  that  a  clock,  if  it  is  a  good 
one,  keeps  regular,  equal  time,  but  that  there  is  some  irregular- 
ity in  the  motions  of  the  heavenly  bodies,  which  prevents  the 
dial  from  always  corresponding  with  it  exactly.     Sometimes 
the  dial  which  marks  apparent  time,  that  is  what  appears  to 
be  the  time  by  the  sun,   is  before  and  sometimes  behind  the 
clocks,  for  they  mark  the  real  or  tnie  time  as  it  is  called. 
Now  how  easily  might  these  boj^s  get  into  a  dispute  on  the 
question  whether  their  father  meant  them  to  keep  true  or  ap- 
parent time,  that  is  whether  he  meant  them  to  begin  by  the 
clock  or  by  the  dial.     Sometimes  the  difference  is  fifteen 
minutes.     They  might  say  that  they  must  obey  their  father's 
command  exactly,  and  each  might  undertake  to  shew,  from 
arguments  drawn  from  the  nature  of  time,  which,   perhaps 
neither  of  them  understood,  or  from  the  father's  practice,  or 
the  practice  of  other  workmen  in  the  vicinity,  that  one  meth- 
od of  computation  or  the  other  was  the  proper  one.     How 
unwise  would  this  be.     The  proper  ground,  unquestionably, 
for  boys  in  such  a  case  to  take  would  be,  "it  is  no  matter  which 
mode  of  reckoning  we  adopt.     It  was  not  fathei-'s  object  for  us 
to  begin  at  any  precise  moment."     "  If  you  prefer  the  clock," 
one  might  say,  "  I  have  no  objection  to  it.     I  think  we  have 
a  right  to  take  which  we  please,  for  father  did  not  specify 
any  thing  in  regard  to  it,  and  if  he  had  any  preference  he 
would  have  stated  it." 

Just  so  in  regard  to  the  Sabbath.  God  saj-s,  in  substance, 
"Keep  holy  one  day  in  seven."  There  is  no  minute  specifi- 
cation in  regard  to  the  moment  of  commencing.  We  are  at 
liberty  therefore,  to  commence  according  to  a?n/  established 
and  common  method  of  computing  time. 


THE  SABBATH.  217 


Universal  principle.  Two  doves.  A  day  of  23  1-2  hours. 

The  following,  it  seems  to  me,  is  an  universal  principle  in 
regard  to  obedience  to  all  laws  of  a  ceremonial  nature.  So 
far  as  the  form  and  manner  are  deemed  essenlial  they  are  al- 
toays  distinctly  expressed  in  the  law.  Look  at  the  laws  in 
these  States  for  the  solemnization  of  marriages.  All  that 
is  essential  is  strictly  expressed.  So  with  the  laws  in  regard 
to  the  transfer  of  property.  Every  form  that  is  intended  to 
be  required  is  detailed  in  the  statute.  So  with  the  purely 
ceremomai  laws  of  the  Jews.  If  a  command  required  the 
sacrifice  of  two  doves,  the  Jew  would  plainly  not  feel  at  liber- 
ty to  bring  one  or  three,  nor  to  oifer  instead  of  the  bird  pre- 
scribed, vultures  or  sparrows.  But  he  just  as  plainly  would 
be  at  liberty  to  ofier  doves  of  any  color.  He  might  choose 
black  or  white,  or  any  other  hue;  and  if  his  neighbor  should 
say  to  him,  "  your  doves  are  not  of  the  right  kind.  Nobody 
offers  such  doves  as  those  ;"  his  proper  reply  would  be,  "  I 
obey  the  command.  The  color  is  not  specified."  So  with 
Christians  m  keeping  the  Sabbath.  No  matter  whether  you 
begin  at  sundown  or  at  midnight ;  if  you  keep  the  Sabbath 
faithfully  according  to  one  method  or  the  other,  you  obey  the 
command :  the  moment  for  beginning  is  not  specified. 

It  seems  to  me  that  any  person  who  endeavors  to  obtain  a 
philosophical  idea  of  the  nature  of  our  mode  of  computing 
time  by  days,  must  see  the  impossibility  of  marking  any  pre- 
cise limit  for  the  commencement  and  the  close  of  sacred  time. 
Nothing  is  so  indefinite,  if  we  take  an  enlarged  and  philo- 
sophical view  of  the  subject,  as  the  term  day.  Astronomers 
commence  it  at  tv/elve  o'clock  at  noon.  Some  nations  begin 
it  at  midnight.  On  shore  it  is  reckoned  as  commencing  at 
one  hour,  and  at  sea,  as  at  another.  The  day  too  begins  at  a 
different  time  in  every  different  place,  so  that  a  ship  at  sea, 
beginning  a  day  in  one  place  and  ending  it  in  another,  some- 
times will  have  23  1-2  and  sometimes  24  1-2  hours  in  her 
day,  and  no  clock  or  time  piece  whatever,  can  keep  her  time. 
An  officer  of  the  ship  is  obliged  to  determine  the  beginning  of 
their  day  every  noon  by  astronomical  observation.  A  sea  cap- 
tain can  often  make  a  difference  of  an  hour  in  the  length  of 
his  day,  by  the  direction  in  which  he  steers  his  ship  ;  because 
a  day  begins  and  ends  in  no  tw^o  places  east  and  west  of  each 
other,  at  the  same  time.  At  Jerusalem  they  are  six  hours  in 
advance  of  us  in  their  time,  and  at  the  Sandwich  Islands 
six  hours  behind.  In  consequence  of  this,  it  is  evident  that 
the  ship  changing  her  longitude,  must  every  day  change  her 
19 


218  YOVNG    CHRISTIAN. 

A  day  at  the  pole.  A  day  lost.  No  sunset  lor  months. 

reckoning.  These  scources  of  difficulty  in  marking  out  the 
limits  of  a  day,  increase  as  we  go  towards  the  pole.  A 
ship  within  tifty  miles  of  it,  might  sail  round  on  a  parallel  of 
latitude,  and  keep  it  one  contnmal  noon  or  midnight  to  her 
all  the  year ;  only  noon  and  midnight  would  be  there  almost 
the  same.  At  the  pole  itself  all  distinction  between  day  and 
night  entirely  and  utterly  ceases ;  summer  and  winter  are 
the  only  change.  Habitable  regions  do  not  indeed  extend 
to  the  pole,  but  they  extend  far  be^-ond  any  practical  distinc- 
tion between  noon  and  midnight,  or  evening  and  morning. 

The  ditference  between  the  times  of  commencing  and 
ending  daj's  in  dilierent  parts  of  the  earth,  is  so  great  that  a 
ship  sailing  round  the  globe,  loses  a  whole  day  in  her  reckon- 
ing, or  gains  a  whole  da}-  according  to  the  direction  in  which 
she  sails.  If  she  sets  out  from  Boston,  and  passes  round  Cape 
Horn,  and  across  the  Pacitic  Ocean,  to  China,  thence  through 
the  Indian  and  Atlantic  Oceans  home,  she  will  find  on  her  ar- 
rival, that  it  IS  Tuesday  with  her  crew,  when  it  is  Wednesday 
on  shore.  Each  of  her  days  will  have  been  a  little  longer  than 
a  day  is  in  any  tixed  place,and  of  course  she  will  have  had  few- 
er of  them.  So  that  if  the  passengers  were  Christians,  and 
have  endeavored  to  keep  the  Sabbath,  they  will  not  and  can- 
not have  corresponded  with  any  Christian  nation  whatever, 
in  the  times  of  their  observance  of  it.  I  suppose  1113'  readers 
will  believe  these  facts  on  mv  testimony,  but  the}'  will  have 
a  far  more  vivid  idea  of  the  tmth  in  this  case,  if  they  will 
ask  some  sea  captain  who  has  sailed  rouffd  or  half  round  the 
globe,  if  it  is  not  so,  and  converse  with  him  on  some  of  the 
interesting  questions  and  difficulties  which  arise  from  this 
peculiarity  in  the  nature  of  the  computation  of  time. 

But  besides  this  difficulty  arising  from  the  variation  in 
the  time  at  ditferent  longitudes,  there  are  also  other  causes 
which  will  produce  greater  difficulty  still,  in  the  way  of 
marking  out  a  precise  moment  at  which  the  boundary  be- 
tween sacred  and  common  time  is  to  be  marked.  As  we  gL 
north  or  south  from  the  equator,  the  lengths  of  the  days  in- 
crease in  the  summer  season,  until  at  last,  as  I  have  already 
intimated,  in  a  certain  latitude  the  sun  ceases  altogether  to 
set,  for  a  period  equal  to  many  weeks  of  our  reckoning.  Now 
what  will  a  man,  who  supposes  that  our  Maker  meant  to 
command  all  mankind  to  keep  the  Sabbath  e.racthi  from  s^m- 
set  to  sunset,  or  from  midnight  to  midnight, — what  will  such 


THE    SABBATH.  219 


Sabbath  in  Greenland,  Change  to  1st  clay. 

a  man  say  to  a  Christian  in  Greenland,  where  the  sun  does 
not  set  for  months  together  ? 

Is  the  moral  law  limited  to  latitude  in  its  application,  or 
did  the  great  Framer  of  it  not  know,  or  did  he  forget 
that  the  motions  of  the  sun,  which  he  himself  ordained, 
would  give  to  some  of  the  people  to  whom  the  command 
was  addressed,  no  sunset  or  midnight  for  months  at  a 
time  ?  No,  it  is  absurd  to  press  a  written  command  to 
any  greater  strictness  in  regard  to  the  form  and  manner  of 
its  observance  than  the  letter  expresses.  God  says  to  us 
simply,  "  keep  holy  one  day  in  seven."  We  may  reckon  that 
day  in  any  of  the  common  methods  of  computing  time.  If 
it  was  customary  in  old  times  to  reckon  the  day  from  sun- 
down to  sundown,  the  servants  of  God  would  probably  reck- 
on their  Sabbaths  so  too.  If  it  is  customary  now  to  reckon 
from  midnight  to  midnight,  we  may  reckon  our  Sabbath  so. 
We  nmst  keep  the  command  in  its  spirit,  but  we  need  not 
press  the  form,  any  farther  than  the  letter  of  the  command 
Itself  presses  it. 

The  same  principles  apply  to  the  change  from  the  seventh 
day  to  the  first.  That  is  not  an  alteration  of  the  command^ 
but  only  of  prarAice  under  the  command  in  a  point  which 
tiie  letter  of  the  law  does  not  fix.  "  Six  days  shalt  thou  la- 
bor, and  the  seventh  shalt  thou  rest ;"  three  hours  you  must 
work  and  the  fourth  you  may  play.  Such  expressions  fix 
not  any  identical  day  or  hour  which  is  pointed  out,  but  only 
the  proportion  between  the  days  or  hours  of  labor  and  rest, 
or  work  and  play.  -Christians  labor  six  days  and  rest  the 
7th  now.  Ey  our  artificial  nomenclature  we  call  it  the  first, 
but  that  does  not  alter  the  real  nature  of  the  command,  which 
is  simply  that  after  every  six  days  of  labor  there  shalt  be  one 
of  rest.  This  requirement  has  never  been  changed  or  touch- 
ed. It  stands  among  the  ten  commands  unaltered  and  un- 
alterable, like  all  the  rest.  The  practice  in  a  point  not  fixed  by 
the  phraseology  of  the  command,  is  indeed  altered,  but  that  no 
more  affects  obedience  to  the  law,  than  a  change  from  parch- 
ment to  paper  in  the  drawing  up  of  a  legal  instrument,  would 
violate  a  law  which  did  not  prescribe  the  material  Who 
would  think  of  saying  in  such  a  case,  "  The  law  has  been 
altered.  When  the  statute  was  enacted  the  universal  prac- 
tice was  to  write  upon  parchment,  and  now  men  universally 
use  paper.  We  can  find  no  authority  for  the  change  and 
consequently  the  law  is  broken."  The  law  would  not  be 
broken  unless  it  unequivocally  mentioned  parchment  in  con- 


220  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


No  change  in  the  command.  The  creation. 

tradistinction  from  all  other  materials.  The  mention  of  every 
seventh  day  in  the  command,  is  not  to  be  considered  as  a 
specification  of  the  particular  day.  If  it  was,  there  ought 
to  be  a  second  command,  as  distinct  and  as  formal  as  the 
first,  to  alter  it.  A  law  cannot  be  made  'publicly,  and  pri- 
vately repealed.  The  command  only  specifies  (he  proportion 
between  the  days  of  labor  and  of  rest ;  the  day,  then,  in  use, 
to  l>e  continued  as  the  holy  time,  until  it  is  changed  by  pro- 
per authority,  and  the  change  made  known  in  a  proper  man- 
ner. But  that  authority  and  that  manner  need  not  be,  by 
any  means,  so  formal  as  was  the  original  command,  because 
it  does  not  alter  that  command  at  all.  It  only  alters  prac- 
tice arising  under  the  command,  and  that  in  a  point  which 
the  law  itself  does  not  specify. 

Some  one  may  perhaps,  however,  say  that  the  Sabbath 
was  in  commemoration  of  the  rest  of  Jehovah  after  the  cre- 
ation, and  that  this  object  is  lost  by  the  change.  But  a  mo- 
ment's reflection  will  remove  this  difficulty.  After  seven 
weeks  had  passed,  the  Sabbath  would  come  on  the  49th  day 
after  the  creation.  Now  suppose  it  had  then  been  changed 
by  being  moved  one  day  forward  so  as  to  come  on  the  50th. 
Who  can  tell  now  what  good  reason  there  is  why  the  50th 
day  may  not  as  well  be  celebrated  in  commemoration  of  the 
creation  as  the  49th.  Besides,  if  the  precise  time  of  God's 
resting,  is  to  be  reckoned  at  all,  it  is  to  be  reckoned  according 
to  the  culmination  of  the  sun  at  Eden,  and  the  day  there  is 
many  hours  in  advance  of  us  here.  So  that  strict  precise 
accuracy  in  regard  to  hours  and  minutes,  is  in  every  view  of 
the  case  entirely  out  of  the  question.  And  the  fact  that  the 
command  does  not  attempt  to  secure  it,  gives  evidence  that  it 
was  intended  for  general  circulation  among  mankind.  To 
a  person  standing  still  in  one  place,  and  looking  no  farther 
than  to  his  limited  horison,  the  word  day  seems  definite 
enough,  but  when  a  voice  from  Mount  Sinai  speaks  to  the 
whole  world,  commanding  all  men,  at  sea  and  on  land,  in 
Arctic  regions,  and  under  an  equinoctial  sun,  under  every 
meridian  and  at  every  parallel,  to  remember  one  day  in  seven 
and  keep  it  holy,  there  must  be  great  diversity  m  the  form 
and  moment  of  obedience.  We  cannot,  looking  over  the 
whole  field,  find  a  precise  and  universal  limit.  The  command 
if  we  consider  it  as  addressed  to  the  world,  is  entirely  indefi- 
nite in  regard  to  the  precise  period  of  the  commencement 
and  close  of  sacred  time  ;  but  the  great  principle  of  it  is  clear, 


THE    SABBATH,  221 


Principle  important.  Non  essentials. 

Keep  one  daj  in  seven,  according  to  some  common  mode  of 
computation,  holj  to  the  Lord, 

I  should  not  have  spent  so  much  time  in  endeavoring  to 
prove  that  minute  accuracy  in  regard  to  the  form  and  man- 
ner of  obejing  this  command  are  unattainable,  were  it  not 
that  this  discussion  involves  a  principle  which  apjDlies  to 
many  other  cases  ;  so  that  if  you  are  induced  to  see  its  rea- 
sonableness, and  to  admit  is  force,  fully  and  cordially  in  this 
case,  you  will  be  saved  a  great  deal  of  useless  perplexity 
about  the  minutice  of  form,  in  a  great  many  other  cases. 
Remember  then  this  principle,  that  commands  are  to  be  obey- 
ed in  their  spirit,  and  that  the  precise  form,  is  a  matter  of 
consequence  only  so  far  as  it  is  a  matter  of  positive  a?id  dis- 
tinct specification.  Do  not,  therefore,  perplex  or  embarrass  your- 
self a  moment  with  disputess  or  speculations  on  such  subjects. 

I  have  one  or  two  practical  remarks  to  make  in  reference 
to  this  part  of  my  subject. 

1,  In  practice  conform  to  the  customs  of  Christians 
around  you,  in  regard  to  things  not  essential.  If  you  live  in 
a  community  where  the  Sabbath  is  generally  commenced  on 
Saturday  evening,  begin  yours  at  that  time.  Conform  not 
only  in  this,  but  in  all  other  unimportant  points.  Kneel,  or 
stand,  or  sit  at  prayers,  as  other  people  do  around  you,  I 
have  known  persons  so  controlled  by  the  narrow-minded  de- 
termination to  have  a  right  way  in  all  these  little  things,  and 
to  consider  all  other  ways  wrong,  that  they  could  not  sit  at 
table,  while  a  blessing  was  asked,  as  is  the  common  custom 
in  many  places,  without  being  very  much  shocked  at  the 
imaginary  irreverence.  Some  men  will  be  pained  if  a  min- 
ister says  loe  in  the  pulpit,  and  others  will  quarrel  with  him 
if  he  says  / ; — ^and  a  grave  discussion  is  sometimes  carried 
on,  on  such  points  as  these,  in  religious  journals.  One  Chris- 
tian cannot  endure  a  written  prayer,  another  cannot  bear  an 
extempore  one.  A.  is  troubled  if  there  is  an  organ  in  the 
church,  and  B.  thinks  that  music  at  church  is  nothing  with- 
out one.  C.  will  almost  leave  the  meeting  house  if  he  hould 
see  the  minister  come  in  wearing  a  silk  gown,  and  D.  would 
be  equally  shocked  at  seeing  him  without  one.  Now  all  this 
is  wrong.  These  points  are  not  determined  by  any  express 
command  in  the  Bible,  and  consequently  they  are  left  to  the 
varying  taste  and  convenience  of  mankind.  Every  person 
may,  perhaps,  have  a  slight  preference,  but  this  preference  he 
*19 


222  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Liability  to  evasion.  Human  and  divine  laws. 

ought  at  all  times  to  be  willing  to  give  up,  in  consideration 
of  the  wishes  and  feehng  of  his  Christian  brother.  He  who 
intends  to  do  good  in  this  world,  must  go  about  among  man- 
kind, with  a  spirit  which  will  lead  him  to  conform  easily  and 
pleasantly  with  the  customs  of  men,  except  in  those  cases 
where  the  letter  or  the  spirit  of  the  Bible  forbid. 

2.  This  discussion  reminds  me  of  one  great  and  striking 
characteristic  of  all  God's  commands.  They  are  peculiarly 
liable  to  evasion.  This  is  one  of  their  excellencies,  as  a  part 
of  a  system  of  moral  discipline.  The  object  of  human  laws 
is  to  'prevent  injury  from  crime,  not  to  improve  and  perfect 
the  character.  The  object  of  divine  laws  is  to  discipline  mo- 
ral beings,  to  train  them  up  to  moral  strength  and  make 
them  sincere  and  faithful  servants  of  their  master  in  heaven. 
This  gives  rise  to  a  great  difference  in  the  form  of  the  com- 
mands themselves.  How  much  pains  do  men  take,  when 
making  laws,  to  cut  off  every  possible  chance  of  escape,  by 
specifying  with  minute  accuracy  all  the  details  of  trans- 
gression. Hence  the  enactments  of  men  are  very  volumin- 
ous. The  laws  of  a  State  on  the  subject  of  theft  will  fill  a 
volume.  But  God  disposes  of  the  whole  subject  in  four 
words,  "Thou  shalt  not  steal."  The  human  lawgiver 
studies  to  cut  off,  by  the  fullness  and  legal  accuracy  of  his 
language,  every  opportunity  for  quibbling  or  evasion.  But 
if  any  man  wishes  to  escape  from  the  laws  of  God  by  quib- 
bling and  evasion,  he  may.  The  door  is  wide  open.  And 
that  is  what  gives  the  law  of  God  its  admirable  adaptedness 
to  be  the  means  of  moral  discipline  to  the  human  soul. 

The  reason  why  it  produces  this  effect  is  this.  The  more 
strict  and  minute  are  the  details  of  a  command,  the  less  room  is 
there  for  the  exercise  of  fidelity  and  voluntary  obedience, 
God  might  in  regard  to  the  Sabbath,  for  example,  have  been 
so  precise  and  specific  in  his  command,  that  the  whole  world 
might  know  exactly  the  moment  when  sacred  time  is  to  be- 
gin, and  exactly  the  manner  in  which  its  hours  are  to  be 
spent.  Nay  more,  he  might  so  have  interrupted  the  course 
of  nature,  that  all  the  business  of  life  must  have  ceased,  and 
men  have  been  compelled  to  rest  on  the  Sabbath.  But  this 
would  have  been  no  moral  trial.  It  would  have  afforded  no 
moral  discipline.  God  does  not  accordingly  adopt  such  a 
course.  He  expresses  his  command  in  general  and  simple 
language.    They  who  wish  to  obey,  can  easily  ascertain  what 


1*ilE   SABBATH.  223 


Spirit  of  the  law.  James'  way  of  reading  the  Bible. 

thej  ought  to  do,  and  they  who  do  not,  will  easily  find  ex- 
cuses. 

It  is  sometimes  said  if  you  tell  men  it  is  immaterial  wheth-= 
er  Saturday  or  Sunday  evening  is  kept,  they  will  keep  neith- 
er. It  is  true  that  some  will  keep  neither.  But  those  who 
wish  to  obey  God  s  commands,  will  keep  one  or  the  other  faith^- 
fully,  and  one  great  design  in  having  uncertainty  in  such 
cases  as  this,  is,  unquestionably,  to  try  us, — to  see  who  does 
and  who  does  not  wish,  on  vain  pretexts,  to  evade  God's  com- 
mands. 

I  proceed  now  to  consider,  the  spirit  and  manner  in  which 
the  Sabbath  should  be  kept. 

The  object  of  the  Sabbath  is  to  interpose  an  effectual  in- 
terruption to  all  worldly  business,  and  to  promote  as  highly 
as  possible,  the  improvement  of  the  character.  Do  then  these 
two  things;  1st,  suspend  all  worldly  pursuits,  and  2d;  spend 
the  day  in  such  a  manner  as  Avill  best  promote  your  spiritual 
improvement.  The  first  point  is  easy,  I  shall  therefore  pass  it 
by  and  direct  my  attention  immediately  to  the  last. 

There  are  wise  and  there  are  unwise  ways  of  keeping  the 
Sabbath  holj''.  James  is  a  boy  who  has  set  his  heart  upon 
reading  the  Bible  through,  in  as  short  a  time  as  possible,  and 
he  thinks  there  is  no  way  of  spending  the  Sabbath  so  prop- 
erly as  by  his  carrying  forward  this  good  work  with  all  his 
strength.  He  carries  his  Bible  to  bed  with  him  at  night,  and 
places  it  under  his  pillow,  that  he  ma}^  read  as  soon  as  it  is 
light  in  the  morning.  You  may  see  him  at  breakfast  time 
counting  up  the  chapters  he  has  read,  and  calculating  how 
long  it  will  take  him  at  that  rate  to  get  through  a  certain  book. 
He  can  hardly  wait  for  family  prayers  to  be  over,  he  is  so 
eager  to  drive  forward  his  work.  He  reads  a  great  many 
chapters  in  the  course  of  the  day,  and  lies  down  at  night 
congratulating  himself  on  his  progress  ;■ — but  alas — he  \iM 
made  ne  progress  in  fiety.  Reading  chapters  in  the  Bible, 
as  if  he  was  reading  on  a  wager,  is  not  making  progress  in 
piety.  He  has  not  examined  his  heart  that  day.  He  has 
not  made  resolutions  for  future  duty.  He  has  not  learned  to 
be  a  more  dutiful  son,  a  more  affectionate  brother,  or  a  more 
humble  and  devoted  Christian.  No, — he  has  read  twenty 
chapters  in  the  Bible  !  He  has  been  making  no  new  discov- 
eries of  his  secret  sins — has  obtained  no  new  views  of  his 
duty — has  not  drawn  nigh  to  God  and  found  peace  and  hap- 


S24  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


A  boy  studying  his  lesson.  The  boat, 

piness  ui  communion  with  Inm; — no,  he  has  had  no  time  for 
that, — he  has  been  busy  all  day,  running  over  his  twenty 
chapters  in  the  Bible!  It  were  well  if  James  was  aware 
that  his  real  motive  for  this  work  is  the  pride  of  thinking  and 
perhaps  of  telling  others  how  much  he  has  read,  and  that  the 
cultivation  of  such  a  spirit  is  a  bad  way  of  spending  God's 
holy  day.  I  would  not  say  a  word  against  reading  the  Bible 
— but  it  must  be  read  aright.  Many  a  boy  has  broken  the 
Sabbath  entirely — wasted  every  hour  of  it,  and  yet  done  noth- 
ing but  read  the  Bible  from  morning  to  night. 

Many  young  persons  think  there  is  no  way  to  break  the 
Sabbath  but  by  work  or  play.  But  the  spirit  and  meaning 
of  the  fourth  command,  undoubtedly  is,  that  the  Sabbath 
should  be  devoted  to  the  real  improvement  of  the  Christian 
character.  And  if  this  is  neglected  and  the  Sabbath  is  bro- 
ken, no  matter  in  what  way  its  hours  may  have  been  spent. 

Yes  ;  if  this  is  neglected  the  command  is  disobeyed.  No 
formal  attention  to  any  external  duty  whatever,  can  be  made 
a  substitute.  A  boy  sits  at  his  window,  studying  his  Sab- 
bath School  lesson, — his  object,  I  will  suppose,  is  not  to  learn 
his  duty  and  to  do  it,  but  he  wishes  to  surpass  some  companion 
at  the  recitation,  or  perhaps  is  actuated  by  a  mere  selfish  desire 
to  obtain  a  reward  which  has  been  very  improperly  offered  him, 
He  looks  out  the  window  across  the  vallej^  which  extends 
before  his  father's  house,  and  sees  a  boat  full  of  his  playmates 
pushing  off  from  the  shore,  on  an  excursion  of  pleasure. 

"  Ah !"  says  he,  "  those  wicked  hoys !  They  are  breaking 
the  Sabbath." 

Yes,  they  are  breaking  the  Sabbath,  and  so  is  he.  Both 
are  perverting  it.  God  looks  at  the  heart  and  requires  that 
all  should  spend  the  Sabbath  in  honest  efforts  to  discover  and 
confess  and  abandon  sin,  and  to  become  pure  and  holy,  and 
devoted  to  him.  Now  both  the  boj's  in  the  boat,  and  the  one 
at  the  window,  are  neglecting  this.  They  are  doing  it  for 
the  pleasure  of  a  sail.  He  is  doing  it  for  the  honor  of  supe- 
riority in  his  class.  The  day  is  mis-spent  and  perverted  in 
both  cases. 

Mrs.  X.  is  the  mother  of  several  children,  and  she  is  ex- 
ceedingly desirous  that  all  her  family  should  faithfull}^  keep 
the  Sabbath.  She  cannot  bear  the  thought  that  it  should  be 
profaned  by  any  under  her  roof  Before  sacred  time  comes, 
therefore,  the  whole  house  is  put  in  order,  all  worldly  business 
is  brought  to  a  close,  so  that  the  minds  of  all  her  family  may 


THE    SABBATH.  225 


The  careful  mother.  Way  to  interest  children. 

be  free.  All  this  is  excellent :  but  how  does  she  actually  spend 
the  sacred  hours  7  Why  her  whole  attention  is.  devoted  to 
enforcing  the  mere  external  duties  of  religion,  in  her  house- 
hold. She  is  careful  to  banish  every  secular  book.  She  re- 
quires one  child  to  sit  still  and  read  the  Bible, — another  she 
confines  to  a  prayer  book,  or  to  some  good  book  of  religious  ex- 
hortation. A  third  is  kept  studying  a  Sabbath  School  lesson. 
All,  however,  must  be  still, — it  is  her  great  desire  and  aim  to 
banish  every  thing  like  worldly  work  or  play.  There  must 
be  no  light  conversation,  and  even  the  little  infant,  creeping 
upon  the  floor,  has  to  relinquish  his  playthings  and  spend  the 
day  in  inaction. 

Now,  when  night  comes,  this  mother  thinks  that  she  has 
kept  the  Sabbath,  and  induced  her  household  to  keep  it  too; 
and  perhaps  she  has.  But  all  that  I  have  described  does  not 
prove  that  she  has  kept  it,  according  to  God's  original  de- 
sign. God  did  not  institute  the  Sabbath  m  order  merely  that 
children  might  be  kept  from  play,  or  that  they  might  be 
forced  to  read,  mechanically,  good  books — but  that  they  might 
improve  their  characters  and  moA'e  real  preparatio//,  for  an- 
other loorld.  Now  unless  a  mother  adopts  such  methods,  as 
shall  most  effectually  promote  the  improvement  of  her  chil- 
dren, and  unless  she  succeeds  in  interesting  them  in  it,  she 
does  not  attain  the  object  in  view.  If  your  children  are 
spending  the  day  in  a  cold  and  heartless  manner,  complying 
with  your  rules  from  mere  fear  of  your  authority,  they  are 
not,  properly  speaking,  keeping  the  Sabbath.  The  end  in 
view,  improvement  of  character,  is  not  attained. 

But  many  a  mother  who  reads  this  will  ask,  "  How  can  I 
interest  my  children  in  such  efforts  to  improve?"  You  will 
find  a  hundred  ways  if  you  set  your  hearts  upon  it.  The 
only  danger  is  that  you  will  not  fully  feel  the  necessity  of  it. 
You  are  satisfied,  or  there  is  great  danger  that  you  will  be 
satisfied,  with  the  mere  formality  of  external  decorum  on  the 
Lord's  day,  forgetting  that  the  empire  in  which  your  influence 
ought  to  reign  on  that  day,  is  the  empire  of  the  heart,  not  the 
external  conduct.  You  ought,  therefore,  to  aim  at  adopting 
such  means  of  addressing  and  influencing  your  children,  as 
shall  seem  best  calculated  to  reach  and  control  their  hearts. 
If  you  really  wish  to  do  this  and  really  try  to  do  it,  you  will 
soon  learn. 

Imagine  such  a  scene  as  this.  A  mother  with  several 
children,  under  eight  or  ten  years  of  age,  collects  them  in 


226  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Conversation  with  the  children. 

her  chcunber  on  a  pleasant  Sabbath  afternoon  in  summer,  and 
with  a  ciieerful  countenance  and  pleasant  tone  of  voice, 
when  all  are  seated,  addresses  them  as  follows  : 

"Well,  children,  you  know  v.- hat  the  Sabbath  is  for,  it  is 
to  give  us  time  and  opportunity  to  improve.  I  suppose  you 
want  to  nnprove.  The  way  to  do  it  is  to  find  out  our  faults 
and  then  try  to  correct  them.  Are  you  willing  now  to  try  to 
find  out  your  faults  ?" 

"Yes,  mother." 

"I  have  thought  of  this  plan.  How  should  you  like  it? 
I  will  pause  a  minute  or  two,  and  we  will  all  try  to  think  of 
faults  that  we  have  seen  among  ourselves  last  week.  You 
may  try  and  I  will  try.  After  a  minute  or  two  I  will  ask 
you  all  around.     Should  you  like  to  do  this  ?" 

A  mother  who  manages  her  children  in  a  proper  manner, 
with  habitual  kindness  and  affection,  will  receive  a  cordial 
assent  to  such  a  proposal  as  this.  After  a  few  minutes  she 
puts  the  question  round. 

"  Mary,  have  you  thought  of  any  thing?" 

"  Yes,  mother,  I  think  that  John  and  I  quarrel,  some- 
times?" 

"  Do  you  think  of  any  case  which  happened  last  week  ?" 

Mary  hesitates,  and  John  looks  a  little  confused. 

"  You  may  do  just  as  you  please,"  saj's  the  mother,  about 
mentioning  it.  It  is  unpleasant  to  think  and  talk  about  our 
faults,  and  of  course  it  will  be  unpleasant  for  you  to  describe 
particularly  any  thing  wrong  which  you  have  done.  But 
then  if  you  do  honestly  and  frankly  confess  it,  I  think  you 
will  be  much  less  likely  to  do  wrong  in  the  same  way  next 
week." 

Mary  then  tells  in  her  own  simple  style,  the  story  of  some 
childish  contention,  not  with  the  shrinking  and  hesitation  of 
extorted  acknowledgment,  but  openly  and  frankh^  and  in 
such  a  manner  as  greatly  to  diminish  the  danger  of  falling 
into  such  a  sin  again.  When  she  has  said  all,  which,  how- 
ever, may  not  perhaps  have  been  more  than  two  or  three  sen- 
tences, the  mother  continues,  addresshig  herself  to  the  others  ; 

"Well,  children,  you  have  heard  what  Mary  has  said. 
Have  you  observed  an}^  thing  in  her  expressions  which  tend- 
ed to  shew  that  she  has  wished  to  throw  the  blame  off  upon 
John?" 

They  will  probably  say  yes.  A  child  would  not  be  a  very 
impartial  historian  in  such  a  case,  and  other  children  would 
be  very  shrewd  to  detect  the  indications  of  bias. 


THE    SABBATH.  227 


Ingenuity  and  effort  necessary.  The  heart  to  be  reached. 

"  Now  I  do  not  know,  says  the  mother,  "  but  that  John 
was  most  to  blame.  Mary  told  the  story  on  the  whole  in  a 
very  proper  manner.  I  only  asked  the  question,  to  remind 
you  all  that  our  object  is  now  to  learn  our  own  faults,  and  to 
correct  them,  and  you  must  all  try  to  see  as  much  as  possi- 
ble, where  you  yourselves  have  been  to  blame." 

She.  then  turns  to  some  passages  of  the  Bible  on  the  sub- 
ject of  forbearance  and  harmony  between  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  reads  them, — not  for  the  purpose  of  loading  her  children 
with  invective  and  reproach,  or  telling  them,  with  a  counte- 
nance of  assumed  solemnity,  how  wicked  they  have  been,  but 
of  kindly  and  mildly  pointing  out  what  God's  commands 
are,  and  the  necessity  as  well  as  the  happiness  of  obeying 
them. 

If  this  is  done  in  a  proper  manner,  if  the  mother  feels  that 
she  must  watch  the  feelings  of  her  little  charge,  and  apply 
her  means  of  influence  dexterously  and  skilfully  she  will 
succeed — certainly  after  one  or  two  trials — in  producing  a 
dislike  of  contention,  a  desire  to  avoid  it  and  a  resolution  to 
sin  in  this  respect  no  more.     She  may  in  the  same  manner 
go  through  the  circle :  fault  after  fault  will  be  brought  up. 
Its  nature  and  its  consequences  kindly  pointed  out, — and 
those  commands  of  God  which  bear  upon  the  subject  plain- 
ly brought  to  view.     The  interview  may  be  closed  by  a  short 
and  simple  prayer,  that  God  will  forgive  for  Christ's  sake,  the 
sins  they  have  confessed,  and  give  them  all  strength  to  resist 
temptation  during  the  coming  week.     Such  an  exercise,  if 
managed  as  every  kind  and  faithful  mother  can  manage  it, 
will  succeed.     The  children  will  go  away  from  it  with  con- 
sciences relieved  in  some  degree,   from  the  burden  of  sin, — 
they  will  look  back  upon  it  as  a  serious  but  a  happy  inter- 
riew,  and  will  feel, — though  a  wise  mother  will  not  try  to 
draw  from  them  an  expression  of  that  feeling, — that  it  is  a 
happy  thing  to  repent  of  sin,  and  to  return  to  duty.     I  ask- 
ed my  readers,  at  the  outset,  to  imagine  this  scene,  but  in 
fact  it  is  not  an  imaginary  scene.     In  substance  it  is  reality. 
This  now  is  keeping  the  Sabbath.     Such  an  influence 
comes  to  the  heart,  and  it  accomplishes  directly  and  immedi- 
ately the  very  object  that  God  had  in  view  in  the  appoint- 
ment of  the  Sabbath.     I  only  oflfer  it  however  as  a  specimen. 
If  repeated  in  exactly  this  form,  every  Sabbath,  the  sameness 
might  become  tiresome.     The  idea  which  I  mean  to  convey 
is  that  the  heart  must  be  reached, — and  the  process  of  im- 


228  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Variety.  Remarks  of  a  Clergyman. 

provement  must  be  advancing,  or  the  object  of  the  Sabbath  is 
lost.  Let  my  young  readers  remember  this.  Unless  you  are 
improving  and  elevating  and  advancing  your  characters,  dis- 
covering your  faults  and  correcting  them,  learnmg  God's 
will  as  It  applies  to  your  own  conduct,  and  confessing  and 
forsaking  your  sins — unless  you  are  doing  such  work  as  this, 
you  cannot  be  keeping  the  Sabbath  day.  The  snnpl.e  ques- 
tion then  is,  are  you  willing  to  devute  honestly/  and  conscien- 
tiously, one  day  in  seven  to  real  and  sincere  efforts  to  make 
progress  in  piety. 

If  you  are  wiUing,  and  every  Christian  certainly  will  be, 
you  are  not  to  go  forward  blindly,  reading  and  reflecting 
without  system  or  plan,  on  the  vain  supposition  that  if  the 
mind  is  actually  employed  on  religious  subjects,  all  is  going 
on  well.  You  must  take  into  careful  consideration  the  na- 
ture of  the  human  mind,  and  the  means  which,  according  to 
the  laws  which  the  Creator  has  given  it,  are  most  calculated 
to  have  an  influence  over  it.  This  principle  will  require  at- 
tention to  sev^eral  points. 

1.  Variety  in  the  exercises  of  the  Sabbath.  When  I  was 
thinking  of  this  topic,  and  considering  how  I  should  present 
it  here,  I  one  day  accidentally  fell  into  conversation  with  a 
clergyman  who  had  had  far  more  experience  as  a  religious 
teacher,  than  I  have  enjoyed.  I  requested  him  to  reduce  to 
\vi-iting  the  views  he  expressed,  that  I  might  insert  them  here. 
He  soon  after  sent  me  the  following : 

"Many  Christians  who  feel  deeply  the  importance  of 
spending  the  Sabbath  in  a  proper  manner,  find,  notwithstand- 
ing all  their  endeavors,  that  the  sacred  hours  do  at  times, 
pass  heavily  along.  Now  the  Sabbath  should  be,  not  only 
the  Christian's  most  profitable,  but  most  happy  day.  I  once 
knew  a  young  Christian  who  resolved  that  he  would  pass 
the  whole  day  in  prayer.  But  very  soon  he  became  exhaust- 
ed and  weary.  He,  however,  persevered  through  the  whole 
day,  with  the  exception  of  the  few  necessary  interruptions, 
and  when  night  came,  he  felt  a  deadness  and  exh?aistion  of 
feeling,  which  he  unhappily  mistook  for  spiritual  desertion. 
No  human  mind  can,  in  ordinary  cases,  sustain  such  long 
and  intense  application  to  one  subject.  There  must  be  vari- 
ety, to  give  cheerfulness  and  to  invigorate.  It  is  often  that 
a  conscientious  young  Christian  takes  his  Bible  resolving  to 
spend  the  Sabbath  in  reading  the  Bible  and  in  prayer.  He, 
perhaps,  passes  an  hour  or  two  in  this  way  very  pleasantly, 


THE    SABBATH.  229 


Necessity  of  variety.  Religious  books. 

and  then  he  feels  tired.  He  tries  to  rouse  his  feehngs  and 
bitterly  condemns  hnnself  for  unavoidable  languor.  1  have 
known  persons  to  be  greatly  disquieted  and  distrustful  of  their 
christian  character,  because  they  could  not  pass  the  whole  of 
the  Sabbath  pleasantly  in  uninterrupted  reading  the  Bible 
and  prayer. 

"There  is  a  wide  difference  between  spiritual  desertion  and 
mental  exhaustion.  To  avoid  this  mental  exhaustion  and 
to  keep  the  spirits  animated  and  cheerful,  much  variety  of 
pursuit  is  necessary.  Who  would  b.^willing  to  go  to  church 
and  have  the  whole  time  occupied  Vv'ith  a  sermon,  or  a  pray- 
er, or  a  hymn.  How  few  are  there  who  can  with  pleasure 
and  profit,  listen  to  a  sermon  of  one  hour's  length?  There  must 
be  a  diversity  of  exercises,  to  make  public  w-orship  agreeable 
and  there  must  be  diversity  to  give  pleasure  to  private  devotion. 

"  Let  the  sacred  hours  of  the  Sabbath,  then,  be  appropriated 
to  a  variety  of  religious  employments.  Suppose  the  case  of  a 
young  married  man.  He  wishes  to  pass  the  Sabbath  in  a 
way  acceptable  to  God,  and  wishes  to  enjoy  his  religious  du- 
ties. He  rises  in  good  season  in  the  morning  and  commen- 
ces the  da}''  with  a  short  but  fervent  pra\^er,  for  the  Divine 
blessing.  He  then  passes  the  time  till  breakfast  in  reading 
the  Bible.  Perhaps  for  tbe  sake  of  variety  he  spends  a  part 
of  the  time,  in  reading  the  devotional  portions,  and  a  part  in 
perusing  its  interesting  history.  At  the  brearkfast  table,  with 
cheerful  countenance  and  heart,  he  leads  the  conversation  to 
religious  subjects.  After  breakfast  he  passes  an  hour  in  read- 
ing some  valuable  religious  book.  Books  are  so  numerous, 
now,  that  the  best  practical  works  upon  Christianity  are  easily 
obtained  by  all.  Bunyan's  Pilo-rim's  Progress,  Baxter's 
Saints' Rest,  Law's  Serious  Call,  Doddridge's  Rise  and  Pro- 
gress, Imitation  of  Christ,  &c.  are  works  of  standard  merit, 
and  works  with  which  all  Christians  may,  and  should  be  ac- 
quainted. It  is  very  desirable  that  the  Christian  should 
have  on  hand  some  such  book  which  he  will  read  in  course, 
a  moderate  portion  every  day,  until  he  has  finished  it. 

At  length  the  time  arrives  for  the  assembling  of  his  fam- 
ily for  morning  prayers.  He  carries  his  principle  for  securing 
an  interesting  variety,  here.  Sometimes  he  will  read  reli- 
gious intelligence  from  a  periodical,  for  which  he  subscribes, 
or  which  he  has  borrowed  from  a  neighbor.  Sometimes  he 
reads  an  interesting  narrative  from  a  tract,  always  taking 
care  to  select  something  which  will  excite  attention.  After 
20 


230  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Way  of  spending  the  Sabbath.  Various  dutjes. 

finishing  this,  he  opens  the  Bible  and  selects  some  appropriate 
passage  and  reads  it,  with  occasional  remarks,  intended  to 
deepen  the  impression  upon  his  own  mind,  and  upon  the 
minds  of  those  in  the  circle  around  him.  He  then  reads  a 
hjmn,  and  after  singmg  a  few  verses,  if  the  family  are  able  to 
sing,  bows  at  the  family  alter  in  prayer.  The  variety  which 
he  has  thus  introduced  into  the  exercise,  has  continued  to 
interes  this  feelings,  and  no  occasion  has  been  otiered  for  lassi- 
tude or  tedium. 

"  He  now  walks  the  room  for  exercise,  and  review^s  the  past 
week ;  he  thinks  of  the  opportunities  to  do  good  which  he 
has  neglected  ;  examines  his  feelings  and  his  conduct,  and  in 
ejaculatory  prayer,  seeks  forgiveness.  When  he  enters  the 
place  of  pubhc  worship  his  mind  is  ready  for  active  service 
there.  He  unites  with  his  pastor  in  praj^er.  When  a  hymn 
is  read  he  attends  to  the  sentiment,  and  makes  melody  i/i 
heart  to  God  when  singing  his  praises.  He  listens  attentive- 
ly to  the  sermon,  feeling  that  the  responsibilit}^  of  being  in- 
terested in  it  comes  upon  him,  and  he  praj's  that  God  will 
bless  it  to  his  o\vn  soul,  and  to  the  conversion  of  others. 

"  Perhaps  in  the  interval  between  forenoon  and  afternoon 
service,  he  has  a  class  in  the  Sabbath  School,  or  is  himself 
a  member  of  the  Bible  class.  These  duties  he  performs  with 
a  sincere  desire  to  do  good.  After  the  close  of  the  afternoon 
services,  he  retires  for  secret  prayer.  He  appropriates  a 
proper  period  to  this  duty,  and  presents  hu  own  private  and 
personal  wants,  and  the  spiritual  interests  of  others,  in  mi- 
nute detail  to  God  He  looks  forward,  too,  to  the  duties  of 
the  week.  He  brings  before  his  mind,  the  temptations  to 
which  he  will  be  exposed, — the  opportunities  for  exerting  a 
Christian  influence  which  he  possesses, — and  forms  his  plans 
of  Christian  usefulness  for  the  week.  He  thinks  of  some 
good  object  he  will  try  to  advance  of  some  individual  whom 
he  will  try  to  lead  to  the  Saviour.  He  forms  his  resolutions 
and  perhaps  writes  them  down,  that  he  may  refer  to  them 
again  the  next  Sabbath  ;  in  the  review  of  the  week.  At  the 
appointed  hour  he  assembles  his  family  for  evening  prayers. 
Some  interesting  story,  followed  by  the  Bible,  singing  and 
prayer  again  give  variety  and  animation  to  the  exercise. 
And  when  all  ^he  duties  of  the  day  are  over,  as  he  is  retir- 
ing to  rest,  he  passes  the  few  moments  which' remain  before 
slumber  has  wrapt  his  senses  in  forget  fulness,  in  reviewing 
the  duties  of  the  day.     The  Sabbath  has  been  profitably  and 


THE  SABBATH.  231 


System  in  religious  exercises.  Waste  of  lime  prevented. 

happily  spent.  It  has  been  to  him  a  rich  season  of  improve- 
ment, and  of  enjoyinefit.  He  has  made  a  Sabbath  day's 
journey  towards  Heaven.  He  heis  obtained  strength  to  meet 
the  alhirements  and  temptations  of  hfe.  During  the  week 
he  looks  back  upon  the  Sabbath  with  pleasure,  and  when  the 
h"ght  of  another  holy  morning  dawns  upon  him,  he  can  sin- 
cerely say, 

*  Welcome  delightful  morn, 

Thou  day  of  sacred  rest ; 

I  had  thy  kind  return, 

Lord  make  these  moments  blest.' 

''  In  this  way  the  Sabbath  is  a  delight.  It  is  a  day  of  re- 
freshment, and  the  spirit  of  man  longs  eagerly  for  its  approach. 
I  have  introduced  the  above  example  simply  as  an  illustra- 
tration  of  what  I  mean  by  saying  that  there  should  be  variety 
in  the  exercises  of  the  Sabbath.  Probably  no  one  who  reads 
these  pages,  will  find  it  expedient  to  adopt  precisely  the  same 
course.  But  all  may  proceed  v/pofi  the  same  frmciple,  and 
adopt  their  plans  to  their  situation. 

2.  "  Spstem  in  the  exercises  of  the  Sabbat h^  Much  time 
is  often  lost  upon  the  Sabbath  for  want  of  a  regular  plan. 
If  a  person  reads  half  an  hour  in  the  Bible,  and  then  stops 
to  think  what  he  shall  take  up  next,  his  mind  is  perplexed. 
He  saj's,  "  shall  I  now  retire  for  secret  prayer,  or  shall  I  read 
a  tract,  or  shall  I  take  up  Baxter's  Saints  Rest.  Several 
moments  are  lost  in  deciding.  Perhaps  he  takes  Baxter, 
But  while  reading  he  hesitates  whether  it  would  not  have 
been  better  to  have  taken  something  else.  And  then  his 
mind  is  diverted  from  his  book  by  thinking  what  he  shall 
next  read.  Thus  much  time  is  lost,  and  the  mind  is  perplex- 
ed. It  is  therefore  wisdom  to  have  a  plan  previously  formed 
for  the  whole  day.  With  a  little  reflection  a  plan  may  easi- 
ly be  formed  appropriating  systematically  the  time  of  the 
Sabbath,  to  the  several  duties  which  ought  to  be  performed. 
Mail}''  persons  constantly  do  this.  In  all  cases  there  will  be 
unavoidable  interruptions.  But  we  may  derive  much  assist- 
ance from  rules,  without  making  ourselves  slaves  to  them. 
If  you  have  domestic  duties  which  must  be  performed  upon 
the  Sabbath,^  if  possible  have  them  performed  by  a  given 
hour,  that  they  may  not  intrude,  upon  all  the  hours  of  the 
sacred  day.  If  you  are  constantly  exposed  to  interruptions; 
if  there  is  no  time  of  the  day  which  you  can  call  your  own; 
then  let  your  plans  be  formed  in  accordance  with  this  pecu- 


232  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


3d  point;  res»  on  the  Sabbatli.  Distinct  duties  to  be  peiloimed. 

liaritj'  in  your  situation.  Three  things  all  may  guard  against, 
indolence,  a  worldly  spirit,  and  too  long  application  of  the 
mnid  to  one  subject.  There  are  no  lawful  situations  in  life, 
in  which  we  may  not  pass  the  day  with  improvement  to 
ourselves  and  acceptably  to  God." 

3.  Rest  on  the  Sabbath.  We  ought  to  remember  that 
God  has  ordained  the  Sabbath  as  a  day  of  rest  from  labor,  as 
well  as  a  day  of  spiritual  improvement,  and  it  ought  to  be 
made  such. 

It  is  undoubtedly  wrong  to  apply  our  minds  so  uninter- 
ruptedly to  religious  duties  during  the  day,  as  to  feel  worn 
out  and  exhausted  at  night.  There  are,  indeed,  some  excep- 
tions. Ministers  and  Sabbath  School  teachers  must  in  fact 
often  do  a  very  hard  day's  work  on  the  Sabbath.  They  arc 
laboring  for  the  religious  good  of  others,  and  must  be  often 
fatigued  by  their  efforts.  But  the  private  Christian,  aiming 
chiefl}^  at  the  promotion  of  his  own  religious  improvement, 
must  not  so  fill  up  the  hours  with  duties  requiring  mental  la- 
bor, as  to  preven'  the  rest  which  God  requires  on  his  holy 
day. 

These  three  points  Variety,  System,  and  Rest,  ought  to  be 
attended  to,  in  order  to  secure  the  greatest  possible  moral  pro- 
gress in  that  day.  A  teacher  of  a  School  would  be  very 
unwise,  were  he  to  require  his  pupils  to  spend  the  \v  hole  of  a 
day,  in  actual  study, — much  less  would  he  keep  them  during 
all  that  time,  upon  one  single  book  or  subject.  Nor  would 
he  on  the  other  hand,  relinquish  all  system,  and  do,  every 
hour,  whatever  should  happen  to  suggest  itself  to  his  thoughts'? 
He  knows  that  his  pupils  will  actually  advance  more  rapid- 
ly, if  he  systematises,  and  at  the  same  time  varies  their  ex- 
ercises, and  allows  intervals  of  i*est  and  recreation.  The 
Christian,  too,  who  watches  the  movements  of  his  own  mind 
and  every  Christian  ought  to  do  this,  will  soon  learn  that  he 
must  adopt  substantially  the  same  plan,  if  he  wishes  to  make 
rapid  progress  in  piety. 

I  will  now  proceed  to  mention,  m  order  to  be  specific,  sev- 
eral duties  which  I  think  ought  to  be  performed  on  the  Sab- 
bath. I  advise  every  one  of- my  readers  immediately  after 
perusing  my  account  of  these  duties,  to  set  down  and  form  a 
plan  for  himself,  assigning  to  each  one  of  them  an  appropri- 
ate place,  devoting  nn  hour,  or  half  an  hour  to  each,  accord- 
ing to  his  age  and  his  circumstances  in  other  respects.    This 


THE    SABBATH.  233 


Way  to  make  self-examination  interesting  and  useful. 

plan  ought  not,  however,  to  occupy  all  the  hours  of  the  day. 
Some  should  be  left  unappropriated,  to  allow  opportunity  to 
rest,  and  to  perform  such  duties  as  may  from  tune  to  tmie 
arise  to  view.  Make  your  plan,  and  resolve  to  try  it,  for  one 
Sabbath  only.  You  can  then  consider  whether  to  continue 
it,  or  to  modify  it,  or  to  abandon  it  altogether. 

1.  Self-examination.  I  do  not  mean  by  this,  the  mere 
asking  yourself  some  general  questions  in  regard  to  your 
heart,  and  the  habitual  feelings  of  it.  I  mean  going  over 
minutely  the  various  occurrences  of  the  week,  to  see  what  you 
have  done,  and  what  motives  have  actuated  you.  You  can 
attend  to  this  most  successfully  by  considering  the  subject 
under  several  distinct  heads. 

(a)  Think  what  has  chiefly  interested  and  occupied  you 
during  the  week,  and  what  is  the  final,  ultimate  object  you 
have  in  view,  in  what  you  have  been  doing.  Review  all  the 
labors  which  have  been  connected  with  it,  that  pursuit,  what- 
ever it  may  be,  and  find  in  what  respects,  you  have  been  pur- 
suing your  object  with  a  wrong  spirit. 

(b)  Consider  what  has  been  ^^our  conduct  towards  your 
p a/rents,  if  you  are  still  connected  with  them.  Have  you 
had  any  difficulty  of  any  kind  with  them.  Have  they  re- 
proved you  once  duri:  g  the  week,  or  been  dissatisfied  with 
you  in  any  respect  ?  If  so,  what  was  it  for  ?  Think  over 
the  whole  occurrence,  and  see  wherein  you  were  to  blame  in 
it.  Look  at  your  habitual  conduct  towards  your  parents,  or 
those  under  whose  care  you  are  placed.  Have  you  at  any 
time  disobeyed  them, — or  neglected  to  obey  them  with  alac- 
rity 1  Have  you  had  any  dispute  with  them,  or  been  sullen 
or  ill-humored,  on  account  of  any  of  their  measures  1  You 
must  look,  also,  to  the  other  side  of  the  question,  and  consider 
what  good  you  have  done  to  your  parents.  Self-examina- 
tion implies  the  investigation  of  what  is  right  in  the  char- 
acter as  well  as  what  is  wrong.  What  good,  then,  have  you 
done  to  your  parents  ?  In  what  cases  did  you  comply  with 
their  wishes  when  you  were  tempted  not  to  comply  %  When 
did  you  give  them  pleasure  by  your  attention,  or  your  faith- 
ful "and  ready  obedience  to  their  commands?  You  can 
spend  half  an  hour  most  profitably,  not  in  merely  by  an- 
swering these  individual  questions,  but  in  a  careful  review  of 
all  your  conduct  towards  your  parents,  going  into  minute. de- 
tail. 

*20 


234  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Minuieiiess  of  self-examinaiioii.  1  layer. 


(c)  Companions.  What  has  been  your  deportment  to- 
wards jou  companions  /  I  low  many  have  you  made  liai)pier 
durmg  the  past  week  ?  'I'hmk  of  what  good  yon  have  done, 
and  ot"  the  way  in  which  you  did  it.  How  many,  too,  have 
you  made  unhappy?  If  you  liave  had  any  contention,  call 
to  mind  all  the  circumstances  of  it ; — theangiy  or  reproach- 
ful or  ill-humored  words  which  you  used,  and  the  spirit  of 
heart  which  you  cherished.  It  will  require  a  long  time  to 
review  thoroughly  all  those  events  of  a  week,  which  illustrate 
the  spirit  with  which  you  have  acted  towards  your  compan- 
ions. 

(d)  Fidelity  in  business.  You  have  some  employment 
in  which  ^^ou  ought  to  have  been  diligent  and  faithful  during 
the  week.  Look  over  minutely  your  conduct  in  this  respect. 
Begin  with  Monday  morning  and  come  down  to  Saturday 
night,  and  see,  by  a  careful  examination  of  the  labors  of  the 
week,  whether  you  have  been  ''  diligent  in  business,  fervent 
in  spirit,  serving  the  Lord." 

(e)  Secret  sins.  This  is  a  most  important  head  of  self- 
examination.  You  have  committed  secret  sins: — you  have 
cherislted  feelings  which  others  have  not  known,  or  you  have 
in  secret,  done  what  you  would  blush  to  have  exposed  to 
view.  Explore  all  this  ground  thoroughly,  and  confess  and 
forsake  such  sins. 

I  might  mention  a  number  of  similar  points,  but  it  is  un- 
necessary, as  my  object  is  only  to  shew  that  self-examination, 
to  be  effectual,  must  be  m'mutc,  and  must  be  brought  to  bear 
immediately  and  directly  vjion  the  actual  condvct.  You  will 
succeed  much  better  if  you  divide  the  ground  in  some  such 
manner  as  above  described. 

2.  Prayer.  This  is  the  second  duty  which  I  shall  men- 
tion, for  which  a  place  oughl  to  be  particularly  assigned  on 
theSabbnth.  I  have  in  several  places  in  this  book,  alluded 
to  the  subject  of  prayer,  and  I  shall  merely  here  say  in  what 
respects  prayer  on  the  Sabbath  should  be  peculiar.  More 
time  should  be  allotted  to  the  exercise,  and  it  should  also  take 
a  wider  range.  Consider  your  whole  character,  and  look 
backward  upon  the  past,  and  forward  to  the  future,  so  as  to 
take  a  comj^ii'liensive  view  of  your  condition  ;ind  prospects, 
and  let  your  supplications  be  such  as  this  extended  survey 
will  suggest  to  you. 

There  is  one  thin<r,  however,  which  I  ought  to  say  here, 
though  I  shall  speak   more  distinctly  of  it  in  a  subsequent 


THE  SABBATH.  235 


fcsludyiiig  ilie  Bible,  and  coriverhalionon  ihe  Sabbaib. 

chapter.  It  is  this :  Take  a  firm  and  an  immoveable  stand  in 
Iha  duly  of  secret  'prayer  ;  let  nothing  tempt  you  to  neglect 
or  postpone  or  curtail  it,  or  pass  over  the  season  of  jour  corn- 
inunion  with  God  in  a  hurried  and  formal  manner.  Neg- 
lecting the  closet  is  the  begmnirig  of  backsliding,  and  the 
end  of  happiness  and  peace. 

3.  Studying  tke  Bible.  In  the  chapter  devoted  expressly 
to  this  subject,  I  have  mentioned  a  variety  of  methods  by 
which  the  study  of  the  Bible  may  be  made  more  interesting 
and  profitable  than  it  now,  ordinarily  is.  Every  youn^ 
Christian  ought  to  allot  a  specific  and  regular  time,  every 
Sabbath  day,  to  the  systematic  study  of  the  Bible  by  some 
such  methods  as  those. 

4.  Conversation.  The  older  and  more  intelligent  mem- 
bers of  a  family  may  do  much  towards  making  the  day  pass 
pleasantly  and  profitably,  by  making  some  effort  to  prepare 
subjects  for  conversation.  Suppose  a  family  take  such  a 
course  as  this: — A  daughter,  studying  the  Bible  alone  in 
her  chamber,  finds  some  difficult,  and  yet  interesting  ques- 
tion, arising  from  the  passage  she  is  investigating.  "  I  will 
ask  about  it  at  dinner,",  she  says ;  "my  brothers  and  sisters 
will  be  interested  in  it.  and  in  father's  answer ;  for  perhaps 
he  will  be  able  to  answer  it."  The  mother  is  reading  some 
Christian  biography,  and  corning  to  an  interesting  passage, 
she  says  to  her.self,  "  I  will  tell  this  story  at  dinner  to-day,  it 
will  interest  the  children  "  The  father  inquires  mentally  as 
the  dinner  hour  approaches,-^  "  What  shall  we  talk  about  to- 
day?" Perhaps  he  recollects  soiTie  occurrence  which  has 
taken  place  during  the  week,  which  illustrates  some  religious 
truth,  or  is  an  example  of  religious  duty.  Thus  each  one 
comes  to  the  table  prepared  to  contribute  something  to  the 
common  stock  of  conversation.  The  dinner  hour,  in  such  a 
case,  will  not  pass  along  heavily  ;  all  will  be  interested  and 
profitted  by  the  remarks  which  will  be  made  on  the  various 
topics  which  will  come  up.  If  any  family  into  which  this 
book  may  come  will  really  try  this  experiment,  they  will  find 
in  a  very  short  time,  that  subjects  for  conversation  will  come 
up  in  far  greater  numbers,  and  exciting  much  greater  inter- 
est, than  they  would  at  first  have  supposed.  There  may  be 
an  agreement  made  at  breakfast  that  each  one  of  the  family 
will  endeavor  to  bring  forward  some  fact  or  some  question  at 
dinner,  and  then  the  father  may  call  upon  all  in  turn. 

A  great  many  persons  imagine  that  conversation  is  some- 


236  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Frivolous  conversation.  Public  worship. 

thing  that  must  be  left  entirely  lo  itself, — that  there  can  be 
no  preparation  for  it,  and  no  arrangements  made  to  secure 
interest  and  profit  from  it.  But  the  truth  is  if  there  is  any 
thing  which  demands  forethought  and  arrangement,  itis  this 
very  business  of  conversation, — especially  religious  conver- 
sation on  the  Sabbath.  AV^ithout  some  such  efibrts  as  I  have 
above  described,  the  Christian  family  when  assembled  at 
dmncr  or  at  tea,  must  spend  the  time  in  silence,  or  in  frivolous 
remarks ;— criticisms  upon  the  preacher,  or  discussions  on 
subjects  which  keep  those  who  are  co'nscientious  constantly 
uneasy,  because  they  doubt  whether  the  subjects  upon  which 
they  are  speaking,  are  suitable  to  the  sacredness  of  the  Lord's 
day. 

Many  persons  have  no  idea  of  religious  conversation,  ex- 
cepting a  forced  and  formal  exhortation  from  the  master  of 
the  family  or  from  a  Christian  minister.  They  cannot  un- 
derstand how  a  whole  family  can  be  interested  from  the 
aged  grand  parent  down  to  the  youngest  child,  in  a  conver- 
sation exact!}'  calculated  to  promote  the  objects  of  the  Sab- 
bath. But  let  such  persons  try  the  experiment  1  have  men- 
tioned above,  and  thej^  will  discover  their  mistake.  The 
ways  by  which  a  family  may  be  interested  by  means  of  ju- 
dicious and  ingenious  efforts  on  the  part  of  a  parent  or  an  older 
brother  or  sister,  are  very  numerous.  Sometimes  a  question 
may  be  proposed  in  regard  to  duty.  A  case  may  be  imagin- 
ed, or  some  real  case  which  has  actually  occurred,  maj-  be 
stated,  and  the  question  may  be  asked  what  ought  to  be  done 
in  such  a  case.  Or  some  question  may  be  started,  for  discus- 
sion, I  do  not  mean  for  formal  argument  as  in  a  parliament- 
ary assembly,  but  for  free  interchange  of  opinion. 

5.  Public  Worship.  It  is  perfectly  astonishing  what  a 
tendency  there  is  among  mankind,  and  even  among  Christ- 
ians, to  throw  off  the  whole  responsibility  of  public  worship 
upon  the  minister.  The  disposition  is  almost  universal. — 
Come  with  me  into  this  church,  and  observe  the  congrega- 
tion assembled.  The  minister  reads  a  hymn,  and  while  he  is 
reading  it,  how  great  proportion  of  the  hearers  are  entirely 
regardless  of  its  contents.  He  rises  to  offer  a  prayer,  and  if 
we  could  see  the  hearts  of  those  present,  how  many  we  should 
find  who  are  really  making  no  effort  at  all  to  accompany  him 
to  the  throne  of  grace.  At  last  he  names  his  text,  and  the 
eyes  of  almost  all  the  assembly  are  turned  towards  him.  As 
he  looks  over  the  assembly  he  sees  an  expression  of  interest 


THE    SABBATH, 


237 


Responsibility  of  the  hearers.  The  farmer  and  his  boys. 

upon  the  countenances  of  his  hearers  and  perhaps  expects 
thej  are  gonig  to  Hsten  with  interest  to  what  he  has  to  saj. 
He  begins  the  delivery  of  liis  message,  endeavonng  to  ex- 
plain to  them  the  principles  of  duty  or  to  present  the  consider- 
ations which  should  urge  them  to  do  it.  Now  let  me  ask, 
while  this  exercise  is  going  forward  upon  whom  does  the 
responsibility  of  it  chiefly  come  1  Is  it  the  duty  of  a  minister 
to  interest  the  people,  or  that  of  the  people  to  be  interested  by 
their  own  efforts,  in  the  message  the  minister  brings  ?  Are 
you  in  receiving  a  message  from  above  to  reject  it,  or  listen 
to  It  carelessly,  and  with  an  inattentive  and  listless  air,  be- 
cause it  is  not  presented  in  such  a  manner  as  io  compel  you 
by  the  novelty  of  its  illustrations  or  the  beauty  of  its  diction, 
to  give  it  your  regard. 

A  farmer  sends  his  boys  into  a  .field  to  spend  the  day  in 
work.  He  tells  them  what  to  do  for  an  hour,  and  says  that 
after  that  time,  he  shall  send  a  man  to  explain  to  them  how 
they  are  to  proceed  through  the  day.  The  boys  go  on  with 
their  work  until  at  length  the  expected  messenger  appears. 
He  begins  to  tell  them  how  the  land  is  to  be  ploughed,  or  in 
what  way  the  father  wishes  the  seed  to  be  put  in  to  the  ground. 
The  boj^s  listen  to  him  a  minute  or  two,  until  one  perceiving 
some  oddity  in  the  man's  manner,  bursts  into  a  laugh  :  anoth- 
er sits  down  on  a  green  bank  under  a  tree  and  gradually  falls 
into  a  state  of  drows^''  insensibility, — a  third  looks  away  with 
a  vacant  countenance  upon  the  hills  and  mountains  around, 
utterly  regardless  of  the  message.  The  boys  consequently 
do  not  learn  what  their  father  wishes  them  to  do,  and  do  not 
do  it,  and  when  night  comes,  and  the>'  are  called  to  account  for 
the  labors  of  the  day,  they  try  to  justify  themselves  with 
this  preposterous  excuse:  "Why,"  they  saj^  to  their  fath- 
er, "  the  man  you  sent  us  was  not  an  interesting  man, 
and  so  we  did  not  pay  any  attention  to  his  message.  He 
had  no  talent  at  making  his  mode  of  explanation  novel  and 
striking,  and  so  we  did  not  listen  to  it."  "  I  could  not  possibly 
fix  my  attention,"  says  one.  "  He  was  a  very  sleepy  talker," 
says  another.  "  I  could  not  keep  awak€."  "  He  was  dress- 
ed so,"  says  a  third,  "  and  he  had  such  a  tone  that  I  could  not 
help  laughing  at  him." 

Such  are  the  excuses  v/hich  many  persons  give,  for  not 
giving  heed  to  religious  instruction  on  the  Sabbath.  They 
try  to  throw  off  all  responsibility  upon  the  minister,  and  if  he 
does  not  awaken  by  the  power  of  his  genius,  an  interest  in 


238  ifOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Duly  of  the  hearers  to  be  interested. 

their  minds,  thej'  consider  themselves  entirely  excused  from 
feehng  anv.  They  say  in  substance  to  themselves,  "  We 
know  we  have  disobeyed  God,  and  he  is  sendnig  us  messen- 
gers to  communicate  to  us  the  offers  of  forgi^  eness  for  the 
past  and  direction  for  the  future,  but  unless  he  sends  us  agree- 
able and  ingenious  and  eloquent  men  we  will  pay  no  atten- 
tion to  any  of  them." 

Who  can  stand  in  the  judgment  with  such  an  excuse  ? 
And  yet  it  is  the  actual  feeling  of  thousands.  But  my  read- 
er, I  do  urge  you  to  abandon  altogether  this  plan  of  throw- 
ing off  upon  the  minister  whom  Providence  has  sent  to  3^ou 
the  responsibility  of  the  interest  you  take  in  public  instruc- 
tion. It  is  his  duty  to  deliver  his  message  plainly  and  intel- 
ligibly, but  it  is  i/our  duty,  most  unquestionabl3%  to  be  inter- 
ested in  it.  Goto  meeting  feeling  that  you  have  something 
to  do  there.  You  must  be  interested  in  what  you  hear,  if  it 
is  a  plain  exhibition  of  religious  truth,  and  you  must  apply 
it  to  your  own  conscience  and  heart  hy  real  active  effort,  or 
you  must  incur  the  guilt  of  rejecting  the  message  from  heav- 
en. The  less  interesting  the  preacher  then  is,  the  more  ac- 
tive and  the  more  arduous  the  duty  of  his  hearers.  They 
should  look  him  steadily  in  the  face,  and  listen  in  silence  and 
in  deep  attention  to  what  he  has  to  say,  and  feel  at  all  times, 
though  the  minister  must  be  faithful  in  delivering  his  mes- 
sage, that  it  13  their  most  imperious  duty  to  take,  heed  hmv 
they  hear. 

There  are  a  great  many  persons  who  are  very  constant  in 
their  attendance  upon  public  worship  and  who  think  their 
motive  is  respect  for  religion,  and  a  desire  to  obey  God's  com- 
mands, when  in  fact  they  are  controlled  by  other  motives  al- 
together. I  do  not  mean  by  this,  that  they  attend  public 
worship,  and  sustain  by  their  influence,  the  ordinances  of  re- 
ligion through  a  distinct  and  deliberate  design  of  merely 
promoting  in  some  way,  their  own  worldly  interest  by  it. 
Actual,  intentional  hypocrisy,  is  a  means  which  few  men 
will  knowinsrly  adopt  to  accomplish  their  purposes.  It  is 
of  so  mean  and  base  a  quality,  that  even  the  h(niorable  prin- 
ciples of  this  world,  are  usually  sufficient  to  jireservc  the 
breasts  of  men  from  its  pollution.  Il  is  degrading  and  hu- 
miliating to  admit  it  knowina'ly  and  voluntarily  as  a  princi- 
ple of  action.  The  Q-rent  danirer  is,  from  a  hypocrisy  or 
something  nearly  allird  to  it,  which,  comes  in  secresy  or  dis- 
guise.    It  is  not  always  an  easy  thing  for  us  to  decide  by 


THE    SABBATH.  239 


Sinister  motives  at  Cliurch.  Way  to  detect  them. 

what  motives  wc  are  governed  m  the  actions  which  we  per- 
form. We  are  often  swayed  bv  inducements  of  which, 
without  rigid  and  impartial  scrutiny,  we  are  entirely  un- 
conscious ;  for  there  may  be  one  motive,  of  fair  and  honora- 
ble appearance,  which  stands  out  to  the  view  of  the  individ- 
ual, as  the  director  of  his  actions,  and  there  may  be  another 
of  far  different  character,  which  in  reality  guides  him,  but 
which  is  coiled  up,  like  a  main  spring,  in  a  secret  place  and 
thus  eludes  his  observation.  The  Bible,  when  it  teaches  us 
that  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  tells  us  nothing 
which  an  unbiassed  observation  of  human  nature,  will  not 
every  where  confirm. 

Now  if  some  sinister  motive  is  for  a  time  actuating  a  Chris- 
tian in  his  religious  course,  he  can  very  easily  detect  it  by 
the  manner  in  which  the  public  duties  of  the  Sabbath  are 
performed.  A  man  who  is  secretly  influenced  by  some 
worldly  consideration  in  what  he  does,  may  be  attentive  and 
faithful  in  all  the  open  and  public  services  of  religion.  If 
we  are  thus  influenced,  however,  as  it  is  external  appearance 
only  which  can  bring  us  worldly  advantage,  we  shall  go  no 
farther  than  to  the  outward  appearance.  We  may  rise  with 
God's  people  in  his  house  of  prayer,  and  assume  the  posture 
of  reverential  supplication,  but  if  appearances  are  all  which 
we  regard,  we  shall  be  satisfied  with  merely  assuming  the 
posture.  We  may  join  with  our  lips  in  the  song  of  praise, 
and  if  to  be  seen  of  men  is  our  object,  the  service  of  the  lip 
is  all  that  is  necessary  for  its  accomplishment,  and  that  will 
be  all  to  which  we  shall  aim.  And  we  may  listen  with  ap- 
parent attention  to  the  message  which  the  preacher  delivers, 
but  the  appearance  of  attention  will  be  all,  if  our  object  is 
such  that  this  appearance  will  attain  it. 

On  the  other  hand  if  an  honest  intention  of  worshipping 
God,  be  the  motive  which  calls  a  man  to  the  weekly  assem- 
bly, it  will  carry  him  farther  than  to  a  compliance  with  the 
external  form.  When,  in  the  season  of  prayer,  recognizing 
the  presence  of  the  Great  God  of  heaven  and  earth,  he  rises 
to  assume  the  attitude  of  respectful  reverence,  his  heart  will 
feel  the  reverence  which  his  action  implies.  His  thoughts 
instead  of  wandering  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  will  ascend, 
in  devout  aspirations  to  heaven.  Contrition  for  the  offences 
which  he  has  committed  against  that  being  who  has  been 
kind  to  him  as  a  father, — resolutions  to  conform  his  conduct 
and  character  more  completely  to  the  divine  will, — longings 


240  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Heartless  worship.  Way  in  wliicli  ii  is  iudicnted. 

for  that  assistance  from  above,  without  which  past  experi- 
ence and  the  word  of  God  inform  him  that  his  efforts  will 
be  strength  spent  for  nought, — and  ardent  supplications  for 
blessings  upon  his  fellow-men,  dictated  by  a  benevolence, 
which  comprises  m  its  view  the  whole  human  famil3%  and 
which  looks  forward  in  its  good  will  to  men,  to  the  enjoy- 
ments of  eternity,  as  well  as  to  the  comforts  and  conveniences 
of  time — these  will  be  the  emotions  which  will  have  control 
in  the  heart  of  the  man  of  sincerity,  while  the  affections  of 
the  man  of  form  will  be  grovelling  upon  the  farm,  the  money 
or  the  merchandize. 

The  song  of  praise,  too,  from  the  one  who  really  worships 
God,  will  not  be  merely  music  on  the  tongue,  it  will  be  an 
expression  of  warm  feeling  from  the  heart.  The  voice  of 
adoration  ami  praise  will  arise  from  a  soul  which  adores  and 
praises,  and  which,  as  it  lifts  up  tliat  voice  will  be  itself  ele- 
vated b}^  the  emotions  of  gratitude  and  love;  while  the 
offerer  of  an  external  worship,  will  be  lost  in  vacancy  during 
the  singing  of  God's  praises,  or  only  interested  in  the  mere 
music  of  the  song. 

And  in  the  listening  to  the  sermon,  the  consc  lent  ions  tcor- 
shipper  will  give  earnest  heed  to  tlie  things  which  relate  to 
his  everlastii'g  peace.  ICnowing  that  he  has  in  multii)lied 
instances  transgressed  a  law  wiiich  God  has  established,  and 
enforced  hy  dreadful  sanctions,  he  is  convinced  that  it  becomes 
him  to  attend  in  earnest  to  the  means  of  averting  the  conse- 
quences of  his  guilt.  With  this  view  his  mind  is  fixed  in 
attention  to  the  way  of  reconciliation  with  God,  and  to  the 
duties  which  devolve  upon  him  who  cherishes  hopes  of  im- 
mortality ;  and  all  this  time  he  who  is  contented  with  oul- 
ward  conformity  is  lost  in  a  mental  and  perliaps  in  a  bodily 
slumber. 

Let  me  urge  my  readers,  then,  to  be  careful  ho^vJJ:ley  per- 
form the  duties  of  public  worship.  The  responsibility  of 
being  interested  in  them,  and  profited  by  them  comes  upon  you 
alone.  You  cannot  throw  it  off  upon  your  minister.  Ex- 
amine yourself  with  reference  to  the  s])irit  and  feelings  with 
which  these  duties  arc  performed.  They  afford  you  a  very 
fine  opportunity  for  close  and  faithful  self-examination,  for 
the  sinister  motives  which  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  un- 
doubtedly exist  in  your  hearts  will  shew  themselves  here. 

There  is  one  thing  more  that  I  ought  to  present  to  the  con- 


THE    SABBATH.  241 


Appearance  of  evil.  The  summer  evening'.  A  walk. 

sideration  of  my  readers  before  closing  the   chapter  on  this 
subject.     It  is  this: 

In  keeping  the  Sabbalh  avoid  all  afpearonce  of  evil.  I 
hav'e  enileavored  in  this  discussion  to  accomplish  two  ob- 
jects. First,  to  convince  my  readers  that  the  mere  form  and 
manner  in  which  the  Sabbath  is  kept,  except  so  far  as  that 
it  is  a  matter  of  express  command,  is  not  material,  and  second- 
ly, to  convey  to  the  mind  a  distinct  idea  what  I  understand 
to  be  the  spirit  of  the  command,  and  to  persuade  all  my  read- 
ers to  aim  at  producing,  by  the  best  means  within  their  reach, 
upon  their  own  hearts  and  lives,  the  efiect  which  God  had  in 
view  in  the  establisiiment  of  the  institution.  From  these 
views  of  the  subject,  were  I  to  stop  here,  it  might  seem  that 
if  we  take  such  a  course  as  shall  really  secure  our  own  reli- 
gious improvement  on  the  Sabbath,  we  may  do  it  m  any  way  • 
for  example,  that  we  may  walk,  or  ride,  or  visit,  provided  that 
we  so  regulate  and  control  our  thoughts  and  conversation  as 
to  make  the  spiritual  improvement  which  it  is  the  object  of 
the  day  to  secure.  But  no.  We  must  avoid  the  appearance 
of  evil.  We  must  not  seem  to  be  breaking  or  disregarding 
God's  commands. 

For  example.  A  Christian,  living  on  the  sea-shore,  after 
having  spent  the  day  in  the  various  duties  which  have  pre- 
sented themselves,  to  his  attention,  stands  at  the  door  of  his 
house,  and  looks  out  upon  the  glassy  surface  of  the  bay 
which  stretches  before  him.  It  is  a  summer  evening.  The 
sun  is  just  setting,  throwing  his  bright  beams  over  the  water, 
and  gilding  every  object  upon  which  it  shines.  The  Chris- 
tian looks  over  this  scene  of  beauty,  and  its  expression  of 
calmness  and  peace  is  transferred  to  his  own  soul.  He  feels 
the  presence  of  God  in  it  all,  and  rejoices  in  the  power  and 
goodness  of  the  great  being  who  reigns  in  every  scene  of 
beauty  or  of  grandeurwhich  nature  exhibits. 

With  his  heart  filled  with  such  thoughts  he  walks  down 
upon  the  beach,  to  indulge  in  the  contemplation  of  God's 
goodness  to  mankind,  and  to  him.  Now  he  is,  it  must  be 
admitted,  while  doing  this,  accomplishing  the  object  of  the 
Sabbath,  by  meditation  on  the  character  of  God.  He  may 
say,  perhaps,  that  his  views  of  divine  goodness  and  power 
are  more  distinct  and  vivid,  while  he  is  walking  out  among 
the  beauties  of  nature,  if  his  heart  is  in  a  right  state,  than 
they  would  be,  if  he  was  shut  up  in  his  study.  Why  then 
may  he  not  walk  out  at  evening  ? 
21 


242  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Walking,  riding,  sailing.  Trial  and  discipline. 

And  why  may  he  not.  step  into  the  hltle  boat  which  floats 
in  the  cove,  and  unloosen  its  chani,  and  push  himself  off 
from  the  shore,  that  while  the  gentle,  dying  swell  of  the  sea 
is  rocking  him,  he  may  lose  hnnself  more  completely  in  the 
absorbing  feehng  of  God's  presence,  and  muse  more  uninter- 
ruptedly upon  his  Creator's  power? — shall  he  go? 

No,  stop,  Christian  stop.  Before  you  spend  your  half-hour 
in  a  boat  upon  the  water,  or  even  in  your  evening  walk,  con- 
sider what  will  be  the  influence  of  the  example  you  are  going 
to  set  to  others.  Shall  you  appear,  while  you  are  doing  this 
to  be  remembering  the  Sabbath  day  to  keep  it  holy  ?  Is  it 
best  on  the  whole,  that  riding,  walking  and  sailing  should 
be  among  the  occupations  of  holy  Imie  ?  Will  God  be  hon- 
ored and  his  Sabbath  kept,  if  all  spend  the  Sabbath  evening 
as  you  are  about  to  spend  it  ? 

These  questions  must  be  answered  on  a  principle  which 
will  apply  to  multitudes  of  other  cases.  Take  a  course  which, 
were  it  universally  imitated,  would  promote  the  greatest  good, 
otherwise  you  maj^  be  doing  that,  which,  though  safe  for 
yourself,  will  be  of  incalculable  injury  through  the  influence 
of  your  example  upon  others. 


CHAPTER     X. 

TRIAL    AND    BISCIPLINE. 
"  Strangers  and  Pilgrims  on  the  Earth.'^ 

1.     Nature  of  Trial. 

The  Bible  every  where  conveys  the  idea  that  this  life  is  not 
our  home,  but  a  state  of  probation,  that  is,  of  trial  and  dis- 
cipline, which  is  intended  to  prepare  us  for  another.  In  order 
that  all,  even  the  youngest  of  my  readers,  may  understand 
what  is  meant  by  this,  I  shall  illustrate  it  by  some  familiar 
examples,  drawn  from  the  actual  business  of  life. 

When  a  large  steamboat  is  built  with  the  intention  of  hav- 
ing her  employed  upon  the  waters  of  a  great  river,  she  must 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  243 

The  sleam-boat  on  trial.  Efforts  of  ihe  Engineen 

be  proved,  before  put  to  service.  Before  trial,  it  is  somewhat 
doubtful  whether  she  will  succeed.  In  the  first  place  it  is 
not  absolutely  certain  that  her  machinery  will  work  at  all. 
There  may  be  some  flaw  in  the  iron,  or  an  imperfection  in 
some  part  of  the  workmanship,  which  will  prevent  the  mo- 
tion of  her  wheels.  Or  if  this  is  not  the  case,  the  power  of 
the  machinery  may  not  be  sufficient  to  propel  her  through 
the  water  with  such  force  as  to  overcome  ttie  current,  or  she 
may,  when  brought  to  encounter  the  rapids  found  at  some 
narrow  passage  in  the  stream,  not  be  able  to  force -her  way 
against  their  resistance. 

The  enguieer,  therefore,  resolves  to  try  her  in  all  these  re- 
spects, that  her  security  and  her  power  may  be  properly  j?rove^, 
before  she  is  intrusted  with  her  valuable  cargo  of  human 
lives.  He  cautiously  builds  a  fire  under  her  boiler; — he 
watches  with  eager  interest  the  rising  of  the  steam  gage,  and 
scrutinizes  every  part  of  the  machinery  as  it  gradually  comes 
under  the  control  of  the  tremendous  power  which  he  is  cau- 
tiously applying.  With  what  interest  does  he  observe  the 
first  stroke  of  the  ponderous  piston ! — and  when  at  length 
the  fastenings  of  the  boat  are  let  go,  and  the  motion  is  com- 
municated to  the  wheels,  and  the  mighty  mass  slowly  moves 
away  from  the  wharf,  how  deep  and  eager  an  interest  does 
the  engineer  feel  in  all  her  movements,  and  in  every  indica- 
tion he  can  discover  of  her  future  success. 

The  engine,  however,  works  imperfectly,  as  every  one 
must  on  its  first  trial,  and  the  object  in  this  experiment  is  not 
to  gratify  idle  curiosity  by  seeing  that  she  will  move,  but  to 
discover  and  remedy  every  little  imperfection,  and  to  remove 
every  obstacle  which  prevents  more  entire  success.  For  this 
purpose  you  will  see  our  engineer  examining  most  minutely 
and  most  attentively  every  part  of  her  complicated  machine- 
ry. The  crowd  on  the  wharf  may  be  simply  gazing  on 
her  majestic  pros^ioss,  as  she  moves  off  from  the  shore,  but 
the  engineer  is  within,  looking  with  faithful  examination 
into  all  the  minutise  of  the  motion.  He  scrutinizes  the  ac- 
tion of  every  lever,  and  the  friction  of  every  joint.  Here 
he  oils  a  bearing — there  he  tightens  a  nut.  One  part  of  the 
machinery  has  too  much  play  and  he  confines  it, — another 
too  much  friction  and  he  loosens  it.  Now  he  stops  the  en- 
gine, now  reverses  her  motion,  and  again  sends  the  boat  for- 
ward in  her  com-se.  He  discovers,  perhaps,  some  great  im- 
provement of  which  she  is  susceptible,  and  when  he  returns 


244  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Improvemenls.  Final  results.  Her  power. 

to  the  wharf,  and  has  extinguished  her  lire,  he  orders  from 
the  machine  shop  the  necessary  alteration. 

The  next  day  he  puts  his  boat  to  the  trial  again,  and  she 
glides  over  the  water  more  smoothly  and  swiftly  than  before. 
The  jar  which  he  had  noticed  is  gone,  and  the  friction  re- 
duced ;  the  beam  plays  more  smoothly,  and  the  alteration 
which  he  has  made  produces  a  more  equable  motion,  in  the 
shaft,  or  gives  greater  eftect  to  the  stroke  of  the  paddles  upon 
the  water. 

When  at  length  her  motion  is  such  as  to  satisfy  him,  upon 
the  smooth  surface  of  the  river,  he  turns  her  course  upwards 
towards  the  rapids,  to  see  how  she  will  sustain  a  greater  trial. 
As  he  increases  her  steam  to  give  her  power  1  o  overcome  the 
new  force  with  which  she  has  to  contend,  he  watches  with 
eager  interest  her  boiler,  inspects  the  gage  and  the  safety 
valves,  and  from  her  movements  under  the  increased  pressure 
of  her  steam,  he  receives  suggestions  for  further  improve- 
ments, or  for  precautions  which  will  insure  greater  safety. 
These  he  executes,  and  thus  he  perhaps  goes  on  for  many 
days  or  even  weeks,  trying  and  examining  for  the  purpose  of 
improvement  every  working  of  that  mighty  power  to  which 
he  knows  hundreds  of  lives  are  soon  to  be  entrusted.  This 
now  is  probation, — trial  for  the  sake  of  improvemtnt.  And 
what  are  its  results.  Why  after  this  course  has  been  tho- 
roughly and  faithfully  pursued,  this  floating  palace  receives 
upon  her  broad  deck  and  in  her  carpeted  and  curtained  cab- 
ins, her  four  or  five  hundred  passengers.  They  pour  in  one 
long  procession  of  happy  groups  over  the  bridge  of  phmks; 
— father  and  son — mother  and  children, — young  husband  and 
wife, — all  with  implicit  confidence,  tmsting  themselves  and 
their  dearest  interests  to  her  })Ower.  See  her  as  she  sails 
away,  how  beautiful  and  yet  how  powerful  are  all  her  mo- 
tions !  That  beam  glides  up  and  down  gentlj^  and  smooth- 
ly in  its  grooves,  and  yet  gentle  as  it  seems,  hundreds  of 
horses  could  scarcely  hold  it  still.  There  is  no  apparent  vio- 
lence, but  every  movement  is  withal  most  irresistible  power. 
How  graceful  is  her  form,  and  yet  how  mighty  is  the  mo- 
mentum with  which  she  presses  on  her  way.  Loaded  with 
life,  and  herself  the  very  symbol  of  life  and  power,  she  seems 
something  retherial — unreal,  which  ere  we  look  again  will 
have  vanished  awny.  And  though  she  has  within  her  bosom 
a  furnace  glowing  with  furious  fires,  and  a  reservcir  of  death, 
— the  elements  of  most  dreadful  ruin  and  conflagration,r— of 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  245 

Safe  and  successful  action.  Life  a  time  of  trial. 

destruction  the  most  complete,  and  agony  the  most  unutter- 
able,— and  though  her  strength  is  equal  to  the  united  energy 
of  two  thousand  men,  she  restrains  it  all.  She  was  con- 
.structed  by  genius,  and  has  been  tried  and  improved  by  fidelity 
and  skill ; — and  one  man  governs  and  controls  her,  stops  her 
and  sets  her  in  motion,  turns  her  this  way  and  that  as  easily 
and  certainly  as  the  child  guides  the  gentle  lamb.  She 
walks  over  the  hundred  and  sixty  miles  of  her  route  without 
rest  and  without  fatigue,  and  the  passengers  who  have  slept 
in  safety  in  her  berths,  with  destruction  by  water  without 
and  by  fire  within,  defended  only  by  a  plank  from  the  one, 
and  by  a  sheet  of  copper  from  the  other, — land  at  the  ap- 
pointed time  in  safety. 

My  reader,  you  have  within  you  susceptibilities  and 
powers,  of  which  you  have  little  present  conception, — ener- 
gies which  are  hereafter  to  operate  in  producing  fulness  of 
eijjoyment  or  horrors  of  suffering,  of  which  you  now  but 
little  conceive.  You  are  now  on  trial.  God  wishes  you 
to  prepare  yourself  for  safe  and  happy  action.  He  wishes 
3'OU  to  look  within,  to  examine  the  complicated  movements 
of  your  heart,  to  detect  what  is  wrong, — to  modify  what 
needs  change,  and  rectify  every  irregular  motion.  You  go 
out  to  try  your  moral  powers  upon  the  stream  of  active  life, 
and  then  return  to  retirement,  to  improve  what  is  right,  and 
remedy  what  is  wrong.  Renewed  opportunities  of  moral 
practice  are  given  you,  that  you  may  go  on  from  strength  to 
strength,  until  every  part  of  that  complicated  moral  machin- 
ery of  which  the  human  heart  consists,  will  work  as  it  ought 
to  work,  and  is  prepared  to  accomplish  the  mighty  purposes 
for  which  your  powers  are  designed.  You  are  on  trial, — on 
'probation,  now.  You  will  enter  upon  active  service  in 
another  world. 

In  order,  however,  that  the  reader  may  understand  fully,  the 
views  to  be  presented  in  this  chapter,  I  wish  to  point  out  par- 
ticularly the  difference  between  the  condition  of  the  boat  I 
have  described,  when  she  was  on  trial,  and  when  she  was  af- 
terwards in  actual  service.  While  she  was  on  trial  she  sailed 
this  way  and  that,  merely  for  the  purpose  of  ascertaining  her 
powers  and  her  deficiencies,  in  order  that  the  former  might  be 
increased  and  the  latter  remedied.  The  engineer  steered  her 
to  the  rapids,  we  supposed,  but  it  was  not  because  he  par- 
ticularly wished  to  pass  the  rapids,  but  only  to  try  the  power 
of  the  boat  upon  them.  Perhaps  with  the  same  design,  he 
*21 


246  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Trials  of  Childhood.  The  child  and  the  forbidden  book. 

might  run  along*  a  curved  or  indented  shore,  penetrating- 
deep  into  creeks,  or  sweepnig  swiftly  round  projectuig  head- 
lands;  and  this,  not  because  he  wishes  to  exfinnne  that 
shore,  but  only  to  see  how  his  boat  will  obey  her  helm.  Thus 
he  goes  on  placing  her  again  and  again,  in  situations  of  diffi- 
culty, for  the  purpose  simply  of  proving  her  powers,  and  ena- 
bling him  to  perfect  the  operation  of  her  machinery.  After- 
wards, when  she  comes  into  actual  service, — when  she  has 
received  her  load,  and  is  transporting  it  to  its  place  of  des- 
tination, the  object  is  entirely  changed,  service,  not  improve- 
ment, is  now  the  aim.     Her  time  of  trial  is  ended. 

The  Bible  every  where  considers  this  world  as  one  of  trial 
and  discipline,  introductory  to  another  world  of  actual  service, 
which  is  yet  to  come.  A  child,  as  he  comes  forward  into  life, 
is  surrounded  with  difficulties  which  might  easily  have  been 
avoided,  if  the  ruler  over  all  had  wished  to  avoid  them.  But 
he  did  not.  That  child  is  on  trial.-^moral  trial ;  and  just 
exactly  as  the  helmsman  of  the  steamboat  steered  her  to 
the  rapids,  for  the  purpose  of  bringing  her  into  difficulty,  so 
does  God,  arrange,  in  such  a  manner,  the  circumstances  of 
childhood  and  youth,  as  to  bring  the  individual  into  various 
difficulties,  which  will  try  his  moral  strength,  and  if  the 
child  does  his  duty,  be  the  means  of  improving  them.  He 
may  learn  contentment  and  submission,  hy  the  thousand  dis- 
appointments which  occur,  and  patience  and  fortitude  by 
his  various  sufferings,  and  perseverance  by  encountering 
the  various  obstacles  which  oppose  his  progress.  These 
difficulties,  and  sufferings  and  obstacles  might  all  have  easily 
been  avoided.  God  might  have  so  formed  the  human  mind, 
and  so  arranged  the  circumstances  of  life,  that  every  thing 
should  have  gone  smoothly  with  us.  But  he  wishes  for 
these  things  as  trials, — trials,  for  the  sake  of  our  improve- 
ment, and  he  has  filled  life  with  them,  from  the  cradle  to 
the  grave. 

To  obtain  a  vivid  idea  of  this,  let  us  look  at  this  little 
child.  She  is  just  able  to  walk  about  the  floor  of  her  moth- 
er's parlor,  and  though  her  life  is  full  of  sources  of  happi- 
ness, it  is  full  likewise  of  sourcesof  disappointment  and  suffer- 
ing. A  moment  since  she  was  delighted  with  a  play  thing 
which  her  mother  had  given  her,  but  now  she  has  laid  it 
aside,  and  is  advancing  towards  a  valuable  book  which  lies 
upon  the  chair.  She  is  just  reaching  out  her  little  arm  to  take 
it,  when  she  is  arrested  by  her  mother's  well  known  voice. 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  247 

Contimaiids.  Pain.  Advantage  of  trial  in  childhood, 

':Mary!   Mary!   must  not  touch  the  book." 

A  child  as  young  as  this  will  understand  language,  though 
she  cannot  use  it,  and  she  will  obey  commands.  She  looks 
steadily  at  her  mother  a  moment,  with  an  inquiring  gaze,  as 
if  uncertain  whether  she  heard  aright.  I'he  command  is 
repeated. 

"No,  Mary  must  not  touch  the  book." 

The  child  1  will  suppose,  has  been  taught  to  obey,  but  in 
such  a  case  as  this,  it  is  a  hard  duty.  Her  little  eyes  fill  with 
tears,  which  perhaps  she  makes  an  effort  to  drive  away,  and 
soon  seeks  amusement  elsewhere.  Now,  if  such  a  child 
has  been  managed  right,  she  will  be  improved  by  such  a 
trial.  The  principle  of  obedience  and  submisson  will  have 
been  strengthened,  it  will  be  easier  for  her  to  yield  to  paren- 
tal command  on  the  next  occasion. 

But  see,  as  she  totters  along  back  to  her  mother,  she  trips 
over  her  little  cricket  and  falls  to  the  floor.  The  terror  and 
pain,  though  we  should  only  smile  at  it,  are  sufficient  to 
overwhelm  her  entirely.  Her  mother  gently  raises  her,  tries 
to  soothe  her,  and  soon  you  can  distinctly  perceive  that  the 
child  is  struggling  to  repress  her  emotions.  Her  sobs  are 
gradually  restrained,  the  tear  flows  less  freely,  and  soon  the 
sunshine  of  a  smile  breaks  forth  over  her  face,  and  she  jumps 
down  again  to  play.  This  now  has  been  a  useful  trial ; 
pain  and  fright  has  once  been  conquered,  and  it  will  have 
less  power  over  her  in  future. 

But  though  there  is  a  real  and  most  important  benefit  to 
be  derived  from  these  trials  of  infancy,  the  child  herself  cannot 
understand  it.  No  child  can  become  prepared  for  the  future 
duties  of  life  without  them,  and  yet  no  child  of  such  an  age 
can  understand  why  they  are  necessary.  The  mother  might 
say  to  her  in  attempting  to  explain  it  as  follows. 

"  Mary,  I  might  save  you  from  all  these  difficulties  and 
troubles  if  I  chose.  I  might  put  you  in  a  room  where  every 
thing  was  cushioned,  so  that  you  could  not  hurt  yourself, 
and  I  might  keep  carefully  out  of  your  sight  every  article 
which  3^011  ought  not  to  have.  Thus  you  might  be  saved 
all  your  pains  and  disappointments.  But  I  choose  not  to  do 
this.  I  want  you  to  become  useful  and  happy  hereafter,  and 
so  you  must  learn  submission,  and  patience  and  fortitude  now. 
So  I  leave  the  book  in  the  chair,  where  you  can  see  it,  and 
tell  you  you  must  not  touch  it,  and  I  leave  you  to  fall  a 
little  now  and  then,  for  the  pain  only  lasts  a  moment ;  but 


248  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Pulling  playthings  oul  of  reach.  Conversation  with  a  mother. 

if  you  try  to  conquer  jour  fears,  and  to  bear  the  pain  pa- 
tiently it  will  do  you  lastnig  good.  Your  character  will 
acquire  firmness  and  vigor,  and  j^ou  will  thus  be  prepared 
for  the  duties  of  future  life." 

The  child  now  would  i.ot  understand  all  this,  but  it  would 
be  true,  whether  she  should  understand  it  or  not,  and  the  ju- 
dicious mother,  who  understands  the  design  of  education, 
and  the  manner  in  which  children  are  to  be  trained  up  to  future 
duty  will  not  be  sorry  to  have  her  children  repeatedly  tried. 
These  repeated  trials  are  the  very  means  of  forming  their  char- 
acters, and  were  it  possible  to  avoid  them  entirely,  instead  of 
meeting  and  conquering  them,  the  child  exposed  to  such  a 
course  of  treatment  would  be  ruined.  Sometimes  parents 
seem  to  make  efforts  to  avoid  them,  and  in  going  into  such 
a  familj^  you  will  find  the  shovel  and  tongs  perhaps,  placed 
upon  the  mantlepiece,  so  that  the  child  cannot  touch  them, 
and  the  mother  will  not  dare  to  bring  a  plate  of  cake  into 
the  room,  for  fear  that  the  children  should  cry  for  it.  In- 
stead of  accustoming  them  to  trials  of  this  kind,  and  teach- 
ing them  obedience  and  submission,  she  makes  a  vain  etibrt 
to  remove  all  occasion  for  the  exercise  of  such  virtues.  If 
perchance  these  remarks  are  read  by  any  mother  who  feels 
that  she  is  pursuing  the  course  which  they  condemn,  I 
would  stop  a  moment  to  say  to  her  as  follows. 

Do  you  expect  that  yow  can  govern  your  children  for 
fifteen  years  to  come,  in  this  way  '^  Can  you  put  every 
thing  which,  during  all  this  period,  they  shall  want,  which 
they  ought  not  to  have,  upon  the  mantlepiece  as  you  do  the 
shovel  and  tongs  1 

"  No,"  you  reply  smiling,  "  I  do  not  expect  to  do  it.  My 
child  v/ill  soon  become  older,  and  then  I  can  teach  him  obe- 
dience more  easily." 

You  never  can  teach  hiin  obedience  so  easily  as  when 
he  is  first  able  to  understand  a  simple  command^  and  that  is 
long  before  he  is  able  to  walk.  And  there  is  no  way  by 
which  obedience  and  submission  can  be  so  effectually  taught 
to  child  or  to  man,  as  by  actual  trial.  That  is  the  way  in 
which  God  teaches  it  to  you,  and  that  is  the  wa}"  you  ought 
to  teach  it  to  your  child.  God  never  puts  sin  away  out  of 
our  reach ;  he  leaves  it  all  around  us,  and  teaches  us  by  ac- 
tual trial,  to  resist  its  calls. 

"  I  know  this  is  right,"  you  reply,  "  but  sometimes  I  am 
busy, — I  ain  engaged  in  important  duties,  and  do  not  wish 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  249 

Trials  not  to  be  shunned. 

to  be  interrupted,  and  on  such  occasions  I  remove  niiproper 
plaj  things  out  of  the  reach  of  my  child,  hecm\se  just  then, 
I  have  not  time  to  teach  hmi  a  lesson  of  obedience." 

But  what  important  busmess  is  that  which  you  put  into 
competition  with  the  whole  character  and  happiness  of  j'our 
child.  If  your  sons  or  yoiu  daughters  grew  up  in  habits 
of  disobedience  to  your  commands,  they  will  embitter  your 
life,  and  bring  down  your  gray  hairs  with  sorrow  to  the 
grave.  You  never  can  gain  an  ascendancy  over  them  so 
easily  as  in  infancy, — and  you  cannot  in  any  other  way  so 
effectually  undermine  your  power,  and  prevent  your  ever  ob- 
taining an  ascendancy  over  them,  as  by  accustoming  them 
in  childhood  to  understand  that,  in  your  endeavors  to  keep 
them  from  doing  what  is  wrong,  you  do  not  aim  at  strength- 
ening their  own  moral  principle,  and  accustoming  them  to 
meet  and  to  resist  the  ordinary  temptations  of  life,  but  that 
you  depend  upon  a  vain  effort  to  remove  them  entirely  away 
from  trial,  so  that  if  you  could  succeed  you  render  it  equally 
impossible  for  them  to  do  right  or  wTong. 

Yes,  trial  is  essential  m  childhood,  and  God  has  so  arrang- 
ed the  circumstances  of  early  life,  that  parents  cannot  evade 
it.  It  must  come.  It  may  be  removed  in  a  very  few  cases, 
but  that  only  brings  additional  difficulty  upon  those  that  re- 
main. And  it  is  far  better  not  to  attempt  to  evade  it  at  all. 
Come  up  then,  p  irents,  boldly  to  the  work  of  accustoming 
your  children  to  trial.  If  you  see  a  child  going  towards  an 
open  door,  do  not'  run  to  shut  it  so  that  he  cannot  go  out. 
Command  him  not  to  go,  and  enforce  obedience ;  if  you  do 
any  thing  to  the  door  at  all,  throw  it  wide  open,  and  say 
mildly,  "  I  will  see  whether  you  will  disobey."  Do  not  put 
the  book  or  the  paper  which  you  wish  them  not  to  touch 
high  upon  a  shelf,  away  from  his  reach.  If  you  change  its 
place  at  all,  lay  it  upon  the  floor,  and  tell  him  not  to  touch  it. 
Remember  that  youth  is  a  season  of  probation  and  trial,  and 
unless  you  avail  yourself  of  the  opportunities  of  probation 
and  trial  which  it  presents,  you  lose  half  the  advantages 
which  the  Creator  had  in  view,  in  arranging  the  circum- 
stances of  childhood,   as  he  has. 

Now  the  whole  of  life  is,  equally  with  the  years  of  child- 
hood, a  time  of  probation  and  trial, — it  is  filled  up  with  diffi- 
culties and  obstacles,  and  sources  of  slight  disappointment 
and  suffering,  for  the  very  purpose  of  trying  and  increasing 
our  moral  strength.     And   all  these  things  are,  or  may  be, 


250  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Instruction  and  practice.  The  merchant's  plan  for  his  son. 

sources  or  enjoyment.  Thej  will  be  sources  of  enjoyment, 
if  we  take  the  right  view  of  them,  as  I  shall  explain  mt^re 
fulij^  hereafter.  God  has  so  arrangeii  it,  that  we  have,  in 
passing  through  life,  a  specimen  of  almost  every  sort  of 
moral  ditficulty,  and  every  moral  power  of  the  heart  may  be 
brought  into  active  exercise,  and  cherished  and  strengthened 
by  the  trial,  if  the  opportunity  is  rightly  improved. 

God  has  therefore  made  a^  double  provision  for  the  moral 
growth  of  men.  First,  he  has  given  us  i?istruclio?i  m  our 
duty,  in  the  Bible,  and  secondly,  he  has  given  us  opportuni- 
ty to  practise,  in  the  various  difficulties  and  duties  of  life. 
The  Bible  is  full  and  complete  as  a  book  of  directions.  Hu- 
man life  is  full  and  complete  as  a  field  for  practice.  The 
best  parade  ground  for  drilling  and  disciplining  an  armj-, 
would  not  be  a  smooth  and  level  plain, — but  an  irregular  re- 
gion, diversified  with  hills  and  plains,  where  the  inexperi- 
enced army  might  practise  every  evolution, — now  passing  a 
defile,  now  ascending  an  acclivity,  now  constructing  and 
crossing  a  bridge.  So  human  life,  to  answer  the  purposes 
intended  as  a  field  for  moral  exercise,  must  have  a  variety  of 
difficulties  to  enable  us  to  practi.se  every  virtue,  and  to  bring 
into  active  requisition  every  right  principle  of  heart. 

A  wealthy  man  1  will  suppose,  engaged  in  commercial 
pursuits,  in  a  great  city,  wished  to  prepare  his  son  to  man- 
age his  business  when  he  should  be  old  enough  to  take 
charge  of  it.  He  accordingly  gave  him  a  thorough  com- 
mercial education  in  school,  but  before  he  received  him 
into  his  partnership,  he  thought  it  would  be  necessary  to 
give  him  some  practical  knowledge  of  his  future  duties. 

"  My  son,"  says  he  to  himself,  "  is  now  theoretically  ac- 
quainted with  all  which  is  necessary,  but  he  wants  the  read- 
iness and  the  firmness  and  the  confidence  of  practice.  To 
complete  his  education,  I  will  give  him  a  thorough  trial.  I 
will  fit  out  a  small  vessel,  and  let  him  take  charge  of  her 
cargo.  I  will  so  plan  the  voyage,  that  it  shall  embrace  an 
unusual  share  of  difficulty  and  trial,  for  my  very  design  is  to 
give  him  practical  knowledge  and  skill,  which  come  only 
through  such  a  trial." 

He  accordingly  fits  out  his  ship.  He  thinks  very  little 
of  the  success  of  the  voyaGre  in  a  pecuniary  point  of  view, 
because  that  is  not  his  object.  He  rejects  one  port  of  des- 
tination because  it  is  too  near.  Another,  because  the  pas- 
sage to  it  is  short  and  direct :  and  another  because  the  dis- 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  251 

A  voyage  of  difficulty.  Its  effects. 

posal  of  a  cargo  there  is  tittended  with  no  difficukj.  He 
at  last  thinks  of  a  voyage  which  will  answer  his  design. 
The  passage  lies  through  a  stormy  sea.  Rocks  and  quick- 
sands, and  perhaps  pirates,  fill  it  with  dangers.  The  port 
at  which  he  will  arrive  is  one  distinguished  by  the  intricacy 
of  its  government  regulations.  His  son  is  a  stranger  to  the 
languao-e  of  the  country,  and  a  great  discretionary  power 
will  be  necessary  in  the  selection  of  a  return  cargo.  This, 
says  the  merchant,  is  exactly  the  place.  This  voyage  will 
comprehend  more  difficulties,  and  dangers  and  trials,  than 
any  other,  and  will  accordingly  be  exactly  the  thing  for 
my  son." 

Perhaps  you  maj^  say  a  father  would  not  form  such  a 
design  as  this, — he  would  not  expose  his  son  to  so  many 
difficulties  and  dangers.  I  know  he  might  not  go  as  far  as 
I  have  represented,  but  the  reason  why  he  would  not,  would 
be  because  he  might  be  afraid  that  some  of  these  dangers 
would  overpower  the  young  man  entirely.  He  would  not 
send  him  among  rocks  and  whirlpools  for  instance,  for  the 
sake  of  getting  him  into  danger,  because  he  w^iuld  fear  that 
that  danger  might  result  in  death.  If,  hov/ever,  he  could 
be  sure  of  ultimate  safety, — if,  for  example,  he  could,  as  our 
great  Father  in  heaven  can,  go  along  with  his  boy,  and 
though  unseen  and  unheard,  could  be  at  his  side,  in  every 
danger,  with  pov/er  to  bring  effectual  protection, — if  earthly 
fathers  'had  such  power  as  this,  there  would  be  a  thousand 
who  would  take  the  course  I  have  described.  They  would 
see  that  there  could  be  nothing  so  well  calculated  to  give 
maturity  and  efficiency  to  the  character,  and  to  prepare  the 
young  man  for  persevering  fidelity,  and  eminent  success  in 
his  future  business,  as  such  a  discipline  as  this. 

The  young  man  at  length  sets  sail.  He  understands  the 
object  of  his  father  in  planning  the  voyage,  and  goes  with 
a  cordial  desire  of  making  it  the  means  of  promoting  his  im- 
provement as  far  as  possible.  Instead  of  being  sorry  that  a 
plan  embracing  so  many  difficulties  and  trials  had  been 
chosen  for  him,  he  rejoices  in  it.  He  certainly  would  re- 
joice in  it  if  he  had  confidence  in  his  father's  protection. 
When  he  comes  into  the  stormy  ocean,  through  which  he 
has  to  pass,  instead  of  murmuring  at  the  agitated  sea,  and 
gloomy  sky,  he  stands  upon  the  deck,  riding  from  billow  to 
billow,  thinking  of  his  father's  presence,  and  confiding  in 
his  protection,  and  growing  in  moral  strength  and  fortitude 


252  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


The  uses  of  irial.  Sell-knowledge 

every  hour.  The  gale  increases,  and  the  fury  of  the  storm 
tries  his  nerve  to  the  utmost,  but  he  does  not  regret  its  vio- 
lence, or  wish  to  quiet  a  snigle  surge.  He  knows  that  it  is 
his  trial,  and  herejoices  in  it,  and  when  through  his  increas- 
ing moral  strength  he  has  triumphed  over  its  power,  he 
stands  contemplating  its  fury  with  a  spirit  quiet  and  undis- 
turbed. At  length  the  wind  lulls.  The  clouds  break  away, 
and  the  bright  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  beam  upon  the  drip- 
ping sails  and  rigging.  The  waves  subside, — a  steady 
breeze  carries  the  ship  forward  smoothly  on  her  course,  and 
he  who  has  been  enduring  the  discipline  of  the  scene,  feels 
that  he  has  made  progress, — that  he  has  taken  one  step  to- 
wards the  accomplishment  of  the  object  of  his  voyage. 

Christian  !  God  has  planned  just  such  a  voyage  for  you. 
He  has  tilled  it  with  difficulties  and  trials,  that  you  may,  by 
means  of  them,  discipline  and  perfect  all  your  moral  powers. 
When  therefore,  the  dark,  gloomy  storm  rises  upon  you,  and 
night  shuts  in,  and  danger  presses,  and  your  heart  feels  itself 
burdened  with  a  load  which  it  can  scarcely  sustain,  never 
repine  at  it.  Think  how  near  is  your  protector.  Confide 
in  him,  and  remember  that  your  present  voyage  is  one  of 
trial. 

2.     The  uses  op  Trial. 

I  think  it  must  be  very  evident  to  all  who  have  read  what 
I  have  already  written  upon  this  subject,  that  it  is  of  immense 
advantage  to  moral  beings,  who  are  to  be  trained  up  to  vir- 
tue and  to  firmness  of  principle  and  of  character,  that  they* 
should  not  only  receive  instruction  in  duty,  but  that  they 
should  be  thus  put  upon  trial,  to  acquire,  by  actual  experi- 
ence, a  firm  and  steady  habit  of  correct  moral  action.  This 
can  however,  be  made  more  clear  if  I  analj'-se  more  partic- 
ularly, the  effects  of  such  trial  upon  the  heart. 

1.  //  enables  us  to  knoio  ourselves.  People  never  know 
their  own  characters  till  they  are  tried.  We  very  often  con- 
demn very  severely,  other  persons  for  doing  what,  if  we  had 
been  placed  in  their  circumstances,  we  should  have  done 
ourselves.  "  Ye  know  not  what  spirit  ye  are  of,"  said  the 
Saviour.  Very  few  persons  know  what  spirit  they  are  of, 
until  an  hour  of  temptation  brings  forth  the  latent  propensi- 
ties of  the  heart  into  action.  How  will  a  revengeful  spirit 
slumber  in  a  man's  bosom,  and  his  face  be  covered  with 
smiles,  till  some  slight  insult  or  indignity  calls  it  forth,  and 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE.  253 

The  deceived  mother.  True  submission  disting^uished  from  false. 

makes  him   at   once  the  victim   of  ungovernable  passion. 
Yes,  trial  reveals  to  us  our  true  character. 

It  brings  to  light  the  traits  of  Christian  character  which 
would  not  be  understood  at  all  without  it.  I  have  a  case  in 
mind  which  I  will  describe,  which  is  a  very  common  case, 
precisely  as  I  describe  it  here,  so  common  that  very  probably 
a  great  many  of  my  readers  may  consider  it  as  their  own. 

A  Christian  mother  had  an  only  child,  whom  she  ardently 
loved.  The  mother  was  an  influential  member  of  the  church, 
and  was  ardently  interested  in  maintaining  a  high  christian 
character,  and  in  studying  faithfully  and  perseveringly  reli- 
gious truth.  She  became  much  interested  in  the  view  which 
the  Bible  presents  of  the  Divine  Sovereignty.  She  used  to 
dwell  with  delight  upon  the  contemplation  of  God's  universal 
power  over  all.  She  used  to  rejoice,  as  she  thought,  in  his 
entire  authority  over  her ; — she  took  pleasure  in  reflecting 
that  she  was  completely  in  his  hands,  soul  and  body,  for 
time  and  for  eternity,  and  she  wondered  that  any  person 
could  find  any  source  of  difficulty  or  embarrassment  in  the 
Scripture  representations  on  this  subject. 

But  she  did  not  know  her  heart.  Her  beloved  child  was 
sick — and  she  stood  anxious  and  agitated  over  her  pillow, 
very  far  from  shewing  a  cordial  willingness  that  God  should 
rule.  She  was  afraid — very  much  afraid  that  her  child 
would  die.  Instead  of  having  that  practical  belief  in  the 
divine  sovereignty,  and  that  cordial  confidence  in  God,  which 
would  have  given  her,  in  this  trying  hour,  a  calm  and  happy 
acquiescence  in  the  divine  will,  she  was  restless  and  uneasy, 
— her  soul  had  no  peace  morning  or  night.  Her  daughter 
sunk  by  a  progress  which  was  slow,  but  irresistible,  to  the 
grave,  and  for  weeks  that  mother  was  in  utter  misery  be- 
cause she  could  not  find  it  in  her  heart  to  submit  to  the  divine 
will.  She  had  believed  in  the  universal  power  of  God  as  a 
theoretical  truth.  She  had  seen  its  abstract  beauty, — she 
thought  she  rejoiced  in  God's  superintending  power,  but  it 
was  only  while  all  went  well  with  her.  As  soon  as  God  be- 
gan to  exercise  that  power  which  she  had  so  cordially  ac- 
knowledged and  rejoiced  in,  in  a  way  which  was  painful  to 
her,  her  heart  rose  against  it  in  a  moment — and  would  not 
submit.  The  trial  brought  out  to  her  view  her  true  feelings 
in  regard  to  the  absolute  and  unbounded  authority  of  God. 
Now  there  is  a  great  deal  of  such  acquiescence  in  God's  do- 
minion as  this,  in  the  world,  and  a  great  deal  of  it  is  exposed 
by  irial  every  day. 
•  22 


254  YOUNO    CHRISTIAN'. 


The  engineer  was  walcliful.  Trial  a  means  of  improvemeul. 

The  case  of  the  stertin  engine  which  I  supposed  at  the 
comniencenient  of  this  cliapler  iUustrates  this  part  of  my 
subject  exactly.  The  engineer  tried  the  boat  for  the  purpose 
of  learning'  full}^  the  character  and  operation  of  her  machin- 
ery. Though  he  had  actually  himself  supeiintended 
the  constmciion  of  every  part  of  the  work,  he  could  not 
fully  understand  the  cha  acterand  the  power  of  the  machine 
until  he  had  tried  her.  While  the  experiment  was  making, 
he  was  watching  everj^  movement  with  a  most  scrutinizing 
eye.  He  discovered  faults  or  deticiencies  or  imperfections 
which  nothing  but  actual  trial  coulM  have  revealed. 

It  is  on  exactlj^  the  same  principle  that  discipline  and  trial 
is  useful  to  us  to  enable  us  fully  to  understand  our  characters; 
and  in  order  to  avail  ourselves  of  this  advantage,  we  should 
watch  ourselves  most  carefully  when  placed  in  any  new  or 
untried  situation,  to  see  how  our  moral  powers  are  affected  by 
it.  We  must  notice  eveiy  imperfection  and  every  deficiency 
which  the  trial  brings  to  our  view. 

2.  Discipline  mid  Trial  arc  the  means  of  improvement. 
Besides  giving  us  an  insight  into  our  characters,  they  will,  if 
properl}^  improved,  enable  us  to  advance  in  the  attainment  of 
every  excellence.  I  ought,  however,  perhaps,  to  saj-,  they 
may  be  made  the  means  of  improvement,  rather  than  that  they 
actually  will  be  so.  The  steamboat  was  in  a  better  condition 
after  the  first  daj^'s  trial  than  before;  but  it  was  because  the 
engineer  was  attentive  and  watchful,  doing  his  utmost  to 
avail  himself  of  every  opportunity  to  increase  the  smoothness 
and  the  power  of  her  motion.      So  with  human  trials. 

See  yonder  child  going  to  school.  His  slate  is  under  his 
arm,  and  he  is  going  this  day  to  make  an  attempt  to  under- 
stand long  division.  He  is  voung,  and  the  lesson,  though  it 
may  seem  simple  to  us,  is  difficult  to  him.  He  knows  what 
difficulty  and  perplexity  is  before  him,  and  he  would  perhaps 
under  ordinary  circumstances,  shrink  from  the  hard  task. 
But  he  is  a  Christian.  Fie  has  asked  forgiveness  for  his  past 
sins  in  the  nime  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  is  endeavoring  to  live  in 
such  a  manner  as  to  please  his  Father  above.  He  knows  that 
God  might  easily  have  formed  his  mind  so  that  mathematical 
truths  and  processes  might  be  plain  to  him  at  once,  and  that 
he  has  not  done  so,  for  the  very  purpose  of  giving  him  a  use- 
ful discipline  by  the  trial  which  the  effort  to  learn  necessari- 
ly brings. 

He  says,  therefore,  to  himself,  as  he  walks  along  to  his 


TRIAL    A^D    DISCIPLINE.  255 

The  boy  slu<|ying  Hivisioa,  I'he  monil  and  arilhmelical  question. 

school  room,  my  lesson  to-day  is  not  only  to  do  this  sum  but 
to  learn  to  be  patient  and  faithful  in  duty,  and  I  must  learn 
the  arithmetical  and  the  moral  lesson  together,  1  will  try 
to  do  iL  I  Will  begin  my  work,  looking  to  God  for  help,  and 
I  will  go  on  througli  it,  if  I  can,  with  a  calm  and  quiet  sphit, 
so  as  to  learn  not  only  to  divide  a  imviber  but  to  persenere 
in  duty.  With  this  spirit  he  sits  down  to  his  work  and 
watches  himself  narrowly  that  he  may  check  every  rising 
(?f  impatience,  aud  obtain  by  means  of  the  very  difficulties  that 
now  try  him,  a  greater  self  command  than  he  ever  before 
possessed  In  fact  he  takes  a  strong  interest  in  the  very 
difficulty,  because  he  is  interested  m  the  moral  experiment 
which  it  enables  him  to  try. 

Now  when  such  a  spirit  as  this  is  cherished  and  the  mind 
is  under  its  influence  in  all  the  difficulties  and  trials  of  life, 
how  rapidly  must  the  heart  advance  in  every  excellenca 
There  certainly  can  be  no  way  by  which  a  young  person 
can  so  effectually  acquire  a  patient  and  persevering  spirit,  as 
by  meeting  real  difficulties  w4th  such  a  state  of  mind  as  I 
have  described  They  who  have  been  trained  in  the  hard 
school  of  difficulty  and  trial  almost  always  possess  a  firm- 
ness of  character  which  is  vain  to  look  for  elsewhere.  There 
must,  however,  be  effi3rt  on  the  part  of  the  mdividual  to  im- 
prove the  trial  or  he  will  grow  worse  instead  of  better  by  it. 
Learning  simple  division  in  schools  is,  perhai^s,  as  often  a 
means  of  promoting  an  impatient  and  fretful  spirit  as 
the  contrary.  It  is  the  disposition  on  the  part  of  the  individ- 
ual that  determines  which  effect  is  to  be  the  result.  Some 
men,  by  the  misfortunes  and  crosses  of  life,  are  made  misan- 
thropes, others,  by  the  same  disappointments  and  sufferings, 
are  made  humble  and  happy  Christians,  with  feelings  kindly 
disposed  towards  their  fellows-men,  and  calmly  submissive 
towards  God. 

The  object,  then,  which  the  Creator  had  in  view  in  arrang- 
ing the  circumstances  of  probation  and  discipline  in  which 
we  are  in  this  world  placed  is  two  fold.  That  we  may  un- 
derstand and  that  we  may  improve  our  characters.  We  are 
to. learn  different  lessons  from  the  different  circumstances  and 
situations  in  whieh  we  are  placed,  but  we  are  to  learn  some 
lesson  from  all.  God  might  easily  have  so  formed  the  earth, 
and  so  arranged  otir  connection  with  it,  as  to  save  us  all  the 
vicissitudes  and  trials  and  changes  which  we  now  experience. 
But  he  has  made  this  w^orld  a  state  of  discipline  and  trial  for 


256  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Practical  direciious.  Gud's  providence  universal. 

US,  that  we  may  have  constant  opportunities  to  call  into  ac- 
tive exercise  every  chrisiian  grace.  Tlie  future  world  is  the 
home  for  which  w^e  are  all  mlended,  and  we  are  ploced  on 
trial  here  that  we  may  prepare  for  it ;  and  the  suliering  and 
sorrow  which  we  experience  on  the  way  are  small  evils  com- 
pared to  the  g-lorious  results  which  we  may  hope  for  in  anoth- 
er world.  But  1  must  come  to  the  practical  dircciions  which 
I  intended  to  present. 

1.  Consider  every  thing  that  befals  you  as  coming  in  the 
Providence  of  God,  and  as  intended  as  a  part  of  the  system 
of  discipline  and  trial  through  which  he  intends  you  to  pass. 
This  w^ill  help  you  to  bear  every  thing  patiently.  An  irre- 
hgious  man  is  on  a  journe3''  reip.iiring  special  haste,  and  finds 
himself  delayed  by  had  travelling  or  stormy  weather  until  a 
steam  boat  which  he  had  intciuled  to  have  taken,  has  sailed 
and  left  him  behind.  He  spends  the  twenty-four  hours  during 
which  he  has  to  wait  for  the  next  boat,  in  fretting  and  wor- 
rying himself  over  his  disap])omtment, — in  useless  complaints 
against  the  driver  for  not  having  brought  him  on  more  rap- 
\d\y, — in  w^ishing  that  the  weather  or  the  travelling  had  been 
better — or  in  thinking  how  much  his  business  must  suffer  by 
the  delay.  The  Christian  on  the  other  hand  hears  the  intelli- 
gence that  thu'  boat  has  left  him  with  a  quiet  spirit,  and  even 
if  he  was  hastening  to  the  bedside  of  a  dying  child,  he 
would  s})end  the  intervening  day  in  composure  and  peace, 
saying,  "  The  Lord  has  ordered  this.  It  is  to  try  me.  Heaven- 
ly father  give  me  grace  to  stand  the  trial." 

I  say  the  Christian  would  feel  thus.  I  should,  perhaps, 
have  said,  he  ought  to  feel  thus.  Christians  are  very  much 
accustomed  to  consider  all  the  i>real  trials  and  sufferings  of 
life  as  coming  from  Gwl,  and  as  intended  to  try  them,  but 
they  fret  and  vex  themselves  unceasingly  in  regard  to  all  the 
little  difficulties  which  in  the  ordinary  walk  of  life  they  have 
to  encounter — especially  in  what  is  connected  with  the  mis- 
conduct of  others.  You  lend  a  valuable  book  and  it  is  re- 
turned to  you  si^oilt.  The  prints  are  soiled  and  worn, — the 
leaves  are  turned  down  in  some  places,  and  loosened  in  others: 
the  binding  is  defaced  and  the  back  is  broken.  Now  you 
ought  not  to  stand  looking  at  your  spoiled  volume  lamenting 
again  and  again  the  misfortune,  and  making  yourself  mis- 
erable for  hours  by  your  fretfulness  and  disyileasure  against 
the  individual  who  was  its  cause.  He  was  indeed  to  blame, 
but  if  you  did    your  duty  in  lending  the  book,  as,  without 


TRIAL    AND    DISCIPLINE,  257 

Losses  of  every  kiud  from  God.  The  careless  engineer. 

doubt,  you  did,  you  are  in  no  sense  responsible,  and  you  do 
wrong  to  make  yourself  miserable  about  it.  The  occurrence 
comes  to  you  ui  the  Providence  of  God,  and  is  mtended  as  a 
trial.  He  watches  you  to  see  how  you  bear  it.  If  you  meet 
it  with  a  proper  spirit  and  learn  the  lesson  of  patience  and  for^ 
bearance  which  it  brings,  that  spoiled  book  will  do  you  more 
good  than  any  splendid  volume,  crowded  with  prints,  and 
adorned  with  gilded  binding,  and  preserved  in  a  locked  cabi- 
net for  you  for  twenty  years. 

So  with  loss  of  every  character,  whether  it  comes  in  the 
form  of  a  broken  piece  of  china,  or  a  counterfeit  ten  dollar 
bill  found  in  the  pocket  book,  or  the  lass  of  your  whole  pro- 
perty by  the  misfortunes  of  a  partner  or  the  pressure  of  the 
times.  No  matter  what  is  the  magnitude  or  the  smallness  of 
the  loss, — no  matter  whether  it  comes  from  the  culpable  neg- 
ligence or  fraud  of  another,  or  more  directly  from  God  through 
the  medium  of  flood  or  fire,  or  the  lightning  of  heaven  ;  so 
far  as  it  is  a  loss  affecting  you,  it  comes  in  the  Providence  of 
God  and  is  intended  as  a  trial.  If  you  are  really  interested  in 
what  ought  to  be  the  great  business  of  life,  your  growth  in 
grace,  you  will  find  that  such  trials  will  help  you  to  under- 
stand your  own  heart  and  to  train  it  up  to  a  proper  action 
under  the  government  of  God  more  than  any  thing  beside. 

2.  Make  it  your  aim  to  be  continually  learning  the  les- 
sons which  God  by  these  various  trials  is  endeavoring  to 
teach  you.  Every  day  is  a  day  of  discipline  and  trial.  Ask 
3^oursclf  every  night  then,  "  What  progress  have  I  made  to- 
day?" Suppose  the  engineer  in  the  case  of  the  steamboat 
on  trial,  to  which  I  have  already  several  times  alluded,  had 
neglected  altogether  the  operation  of  the  machineiy  when 
his  boat  was  first  put  to  the  test.  Suppose  that  instead  of 
examining  minutely  and  carefully  the  structure  and  the  ac- 
tion of  the  parts,  with  a  view  to  removing  difficulties,  recti- 
fying defects  and  supplying  deficiencies,  he  had  been  seated 
quietly  upon  the  deck  enjoying  the  sail.  He  might  have 
been  gazing  at  the  scenery  of  the  shore,  or  in  vanity  and 
self-complacency  enjoying  the  admiration  which  he  imagine 
ed  those  who  stood  upon  the  wharf  were  feeling  for  he  de- 
gree of  success  which  he  had  already  attained.  While  he 
is  thus  neglecting  his  duty,  evils  without  number,  and  fraught 
with  incalculable  consequences  are  working  below.  The 
defects  in  his  machinery  are  not  discovered  and  not  remedied, 
Its  weaknesses  remain  unobserved  and  unrepaired,  ai^d  if  at 
*22 


258  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Neglect  of  duly.  Coucludii;g  remarks. 

last  there  should  be  intrusted  to  his  care    valuable    property, 
nothing  can  reasonably  be  expected  but  its  destruction. 

Multitudes  of  men,  and  even  great  numbers  of  those  who 
call  themselves  Christians  act  the  part  of  this  hifatuated  en- 
gineer. Uod  tells  them  that  their  moral  powers  are  now  on 
trial.  He  commands  them  to  consider  it  their  business  here 
not  to  be  engrosed  in  the  objects  of  interest  which  surround 
them  as  they  pass  on  through  life,  nor  to  be  satisfied  with 
present  atlainments  of  any  kind,  but  to  consider  themselves 
as  sailing  now  in  troubled  waters  for  the  purpose  of  trial  and 
improvement ;  to  watch  themselves  with  constant  self-exam- 
ination, and  with  honest  eftbrts  to  rectify  what  is  wrong  and 
to  supply  what  is  deficient.  He  requires  them  to  consider 
all  the  circumstances  and  occurrences  of  life  as  coming  from 
him,  and  as  arranged  with  express  reference  to  the  attain- 
ment of  these  objects.  Notwithstanding  all  this,  however, 
they  neglect  the  duty  altogether.  They  do  not  watch  them- 
selves. They  do  not  habitually  and  practicallj^  regard  the 
events  of  life  as  means  to  enable  them  to  understand  their 
hearts,  to  strengthen,  by  constant  exercise,  moral  prin- 
ciple, and  to  grow  in  grace.  Instead  of  this  they  are  en- 
gaged in  simply  endeavoring  to  secure  as  much  present 
good  in  this  world  as  they  can,  and  can  see  no  good  in  any 
trial  and  gel  no  good  from  it.  When  they  are  sick,  they 
spend  the  time  in  longing  to  get  well.  When  they  are  dis- 
appointed they  make  themselves  miserable  by  useless  lamen- 
tations. Losses  bring  endless  regrets,  and  injuries  impa- 
tience and  anger,  and  thus  half  of  life  is  spent  in  stmggles 
which  are  really  the  vain  and  hopeless  struggles  of  a  weak 
man  to  get  free  from  the  authority  and  government  of  God. 

I  have  now  completed  what  I  intended  to  present  on  the 
subject  of  probation  ;  and  I  think  that  all  my  readers  will 
easily  see  that  by  taking  such  a  view  of  life,  as  this  subject 
pres<^nts  to  us,  the  whole  aspect  of  our  residence  in  this 
world  is  at  once  changed.  If  you  reall}^  feel  what  I  have 
been  endeavoring  to  explain,  you  will  regard  yourselves  as 
strangers  and  pilgrims  here,  looking  continually  forward  to 
another  country  ns  your  home.  The  thousand  trials  and 
troubles  of  life  will  lose  half  their  power  by  your  regarding 
them  in  their  true  light,  that  is,  as  means  of  moral  discipline 
and  improvement.  You  must  however,  make  a  constant 
effort  to  do  this.     Make  it  a  part  of  your  daily  self  examin- 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  259 

General  improvement,  a  Christian  duly, 

aton,  not  only  to  ascertain  what  is  the  state  of  your  heart, 
at  the  time  of  retirement,  but  to  review  the  incidents  of  the 
day,  and  to  see  how  they  have  operated  upon  you  as  means 
of  moral  discipline.  See  what  traits  of  character  those 
incidents  have  brought  to  your  view,  and  what  effect  they 
have  had  in  making  you  worse  or  better  than  3'ou  were  in 
the  morning.  The  little  events  and  circumstances  of  every 
day  must  have  a  very  important  influence  of  one  kind  or  of 
the  other.  If  you  neglect  this  influence  it  will  all  go  wrong. 
If  you  attend  to  it,  it  md.y  go  well  and  happily  with  you, 
wherever  and  w^hatever  you  may  be. 


CHAPTER     XI 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT 


•  The  path  of  the  just  is   as  the  shining  light,  which  shineth  more  and  more 
unto  the  perfect  day.' 

The  chapters  which  the  reader  has  just  perused  are  on 
subjects  connected  with  the  improvement  of  the  character, 
i.  e.  they  are  upon  the  means  by  which  this  improvement  is 
to  be  promoted.  Studying  the  Bible,  keeping  the  Sabbath, 
and  exposure  to  disciphnc,  are  all  intended  to  be  means  for 
the  promotion  of  a  moral  progress.  There  are  some  things 
however,  which  I  wish  to  say  in  regard  to  the  character  it- 
self, as  it  goes  on  in  the  process  of  improvement.  Reader  ! 
do  you  wish  to  avail  3'ourself  of  the  opportunities  and  means 
I  have  described  ?  Do  you  wish  to  study  the  Bible,  remem- 
ber the  Sabbath,  and  improve  all  the  occurrences  of  life,  as 
the  means  of  promotmg  your  progress  in  all  that  is  good, 
If  so,  look  now  with  me  a  litle  while  into  your  character  it- 
self,— that  you  may  see  in  what  respect  it  needs  your  atten- 
tion, and  in  what  way  you  can  so  employ  the  means  I  have 
described  as  to  gain  the  fullest  benefit  from  them.  As  I 
think  that  every  young  Christian  ought  most  assiduously  to 


260  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Moral  Improvement.  Faults.  1  he  vain  boy. 

cultivate  his  moral,  and  also  his  intellectual  powers,  I  shall 
discuss  in  order  both  these  ponits. 

1.     Moral  Improvement. 

Every  young  Christian  will  find,  however  sincerely  and  ar- 
dently he  may  have  given  up  his  heart  to  God,  and  commenc- 
ed a  life  of  piety,  that  a  vast  number  of  faults  remain  to  be 
corrected ;  faults  which  he  acquired  while  he  lived  in  sin, 
and  which  the  force  of  habit  have  fixed  upon  hiirx.  Now 
you  know  what  these  faults  are,  or  j'ou  may  very  easily  learn, 
and  your  first  effort  is  to  correct  them. 

In  order  now  to  make  clear  the  course  which  I  think 
ought  to  be  taken  to  correct  such  faults,  I  will  suppose  a 
case,  and  bring  into  it  the  various  methods  which  may  be 
adopted  for  this  purpose.  And  I  shall  write  the  account 
with  a  double  aspect, — one  towards  parents  with  the  design 
of  shewing  them  what  sort  of  efforts  they  ought  to  make 
to  correct  the  faults  of  their  children,  and  the  other  towards 
the  young,  to  show  what  measures  they  should  adopt  to 
improve  themselves. 

First,  however,  I  will  mention  a  very  common,  but  a  very 
ineffectual  mode  of  attempting  to  correct  faults.  A  father 
sees  in  his  son  some  exhibition  of  childish  vanity,  and  he 
says  to  him,  instantly,  at  the  very  time  of  the  occurrence, 
"  Yoa  are  acting  in  a  very  foolish  manner.  You  shew  a 
great  deal  of  vanity  and  self-conceit  by  such  conduct.  And 
in  fact,  I  have  observed  that  you  are  growing  very  vain  for 
some  months  past;  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  to  correct 
it." 

The  poor  boy  hangs  his  head  and  looks  ashamed,  and  his 
father,  talking  about  it  a  few  minutes  longer,  in  a  half  irri- 
tated tone,  dismisses  and  forgets  the  subject.  The  boy  re- 
frains, perhaps,  from  that  particular  exhibition  of  vanity,  for 
a  little  while,  and  that  is  probably  all  the  good  which  results 
from  the  rei^roof. 

Another  wiser  parent  sees  with  regret,  the  rising  spirit  of 
self-conceit  in  his  son,  and  in^^tead  of  rushing  on  to  attack  it 
without  plan  or  design,  at  the  first  momentary  impulse,  he 
resorts  to  a  very  different  course.  He  notices  several  cases, 
— remembers  them, — reflects  that  the  evil  which  has  been 
forming,  perhaps  for  years,  cannot  be  corrected  by  a  single 
abrupt  reproof, — and  accordingly  forms  a  plan  for  a  protract- 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  261 

Way  to  reform  him.  Conversation  with  his  father. 

ed  moral  discipline  in  the  case,  and  then  seeks  a  favorable 
opportunity  to  execute  it. 

One  day,  after  the  father  has  been  granting  some  unusual 
indulgence,  and  they  have  spent  the  day  happily  together  in 
some  plan  of  enjoyment,  and  are  riding  home  slowly  in  a 
pleasant  summer  evening,  he  thus  addresses  his  son. 

"  Well  Samuel,  you  have  been  a  good  boy,  and  we  have 
had  a  pleasant  tune.  Now  I  am  going  to  give  you  some- 
thing to  do,  which,  if  you  do  it  aright,  will  wind  up  the  day 
very  pleasantly." 

"  What  is  it  ?"  says  Samuel. 

"  I  am  not  certam  that  it  will  please  you,  but  you  may  do 
as  you  choose  about  undertaking  it.  It  will  not  be  pleas- 
ant at  first ;    the  enjoyment  will  come  afterwards." 

Samuel.  "  But  what  is  it  father  ?  I  think  I  shall  like  to 
do  it." 

Father.     "  Do  you  think  you  have  any  faults,  Samuel  ?" 

Samuel.     "  Yes  Sir,  I  know  I  have  a  great  many." 

F.  "  Yes,  you  have ;  and  all  boys  have.  Some  wish 
to  correct  them,  and  others  do  not.  Now  I  have  supposed 
that  you  do  wish  to  correct  them,  and  I  had  thought  of  de- 
scribing to  you  one  of  your  faults,  and  then  telling  you  of  a 
particular  thing  which  you  can  do,  which  will  help  you  to 
correct  it.  But  then  it  will  not  be  very  pleasant  for  you  to 
sit  here  and  have  me  find  fault  with  3^ou, — mention  a  num- 
of  instances  in  which  you  have  done  wrong,  and  particular- 
ize all  the  little  circumstances  which  increased  the  guilt. 
This  I  say  will  not  be  very  pleasant,  even  though  you  know 
that  my  design  is  not  to  blame  you,  but  to  help  you  improve. 
But  then  if  you  undertake  it,  and  after  a  little  while,  find 
that  you  are  really  improving,  then,  yow  will  feel  happier  for 
the  effort.  Now  I  wish  you  to  consider  both,  and  tell  me 
whether  you  wish  me  to  give  you  a  fault  to  correct  or  not." 

If  the  boy  now  has  been  under  a  kind  and  gentle,  but  ef- 
ficient government,  he  will  almost  certainly  desire  to  have 
the  fault,  and  the  way  by  which  he  is  to  correct  it,  pointed 
out.     If  so,  the  father  may  proceed   as  follows. 

"  The  fault  I  am  going  to  mention  now  is  vanity.  Now 
it  is  right  for  you  to  desire  my  approbation.  It  is  right  for 
you  not  only  to  do  your  duty,  but  to  wish  that  others  should 
know  that  you  do  it.  I  think  too,  it  is  right  for  you  to  take 
pleasure  in  reflecting  on  your  improvement,  as  you  go. on 
improving  from  year  to  year.     But  when  you  fanc}'  your 


262  yOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Instances  of  vanity.  The  boy's  list. 

improvement  to  be  greater  than  it  is,  or  imagine  that  yon 
have  excellences,  which  you  possess  in  a  very  slight  degree, 
or  when  you  obtrude  some  triflmg  honor  upon  the  notice  of 
strangers  for  the  sake  of  gettnig  their  admiration,  you  ex- 
hibit vanity.     Now  did  you  know  that  you  had  this  fault  ?" 

S.  "  I  do  not  know  that  I  have  thought  of  it  particular- 
ly.     I  suppose  though  that  I  do  have  it." 

F.  "  Your  having  the  fault  now,  is  of  very  little  conse- 
quence, if  you  only  take  hold  of  it  in  earnest  and  correct  it. 
It  has  grown  up  with  you  insensibly ;  in  fact,  almost  all 
children  fall  into  it.  I  presume  that  1  had  it  as  much  as  you 
do,  when  I  was  as  young.  Do  you  think  now  that  you 
can  recollect  any  cases  in  which  you  have  shewn  vanity?" 

S.  "  I  don't  know;  perhaps  1  could  if  I  should  have  a 
little  time." 

F.  "  Well,  I  will  give  yon  time  to  think,  and  if  you 
really  wish  to  correct  yourself  of  the  fault,  you  may  think 
of  all  the  cases  you  can,  and  tell  me  of  them.  If  you  pre- 
fer it,  you  may  write  the  list  and  shew  it  to  me." 

Now  if  the  subject  is  taken  up  in  this  spirit,  most  boys 
who  had  been  treated  on  these  principles  before,  would  re- 
ceive the  communication  with  pleasure,  and  v/ould  engage 
with  interest  in  the  work  of  exploring  the  heart.  And  such 
a  boy  will  succeed.  He  will  bring  a  list  of  instances,  not 
perhaps,  fully  detailed,  but  alluded  to  distinctly  enough,  to 
recal  them  to  mind.  His  list  might  be  perhaps  something 
as  follows  : 

"  Dear  Father, 

"  I  have  made  out   a  list  of  the  times   in  which  I  was 
vain,  and  I  now  send  it  to  you. 

"1.  I  brought  out  my  writing  book  a  few  evenings 
since,  when  some  company  was  here,  in  hopes  the}''  would 
ask  to  see  it. 

"  2.  I  said  yesterday  at  table,  that  there  was  something 
in  the  lesson  which  none  of  the  boys  could  recite,  until  it 
came  to  me  and  I  recited  it. 

"  3.  I  pretended  lo  talk  latin  with  George,  when  walk- 
ing, thinking  that  you  and  the  other  gentlemen  would  over- 
hear it. 

"  I  suppose  I  could  think  of  many  other  cases  if  I  had 
time.  I  am  glad  you  told  me  of  the  fault,  for  I  think  it  a 
very  foolish  one,  and  I  wish  to  correct  it, 

Your  dutiful  son,  • ." 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  263 

Effect  of  this  confession.  Jiecrel  confession  to  be  minute. 

Now  let  me  ask  every  one  of  my  readers  who  has  any 
knowledge  of  human  nature,  whether,  if  the  effort  of  the 
father  to  correct  this  fault  should  stop  here,  a  most  pow^er- 
ful  blow  would  not  have  been  struck.  Do  you  thnik  that 
a  boy  can  make  such  a  self-examination,  and  confess  freely 
his  faults  m  this  manner,  without  making  a  real  progress  in 
forsaking  them.  Can  he  as  easily,  after  this,  attempt  to 
display  his  accomplishments,  or  talk  of  his  exploits  1 

The  process  ought  not  to  stop  here,  but  this  is  the  first 
step  ;  confession, — full,  free  and  particular  confession.  In  the 
first  chapter  I  described  the  power  of  confession  to  restore 
■peace  of  mind,  after  it  is  lost  by  sin :  and  in  alluding  to  the 
subject  of  confession  again  here,  it  will  be  seen  that  I  look 
at  another  aspect  of  it,  viz.  its  tendency  to  promote  refor- 
mation. It  is  in  this  latter  respect  only,  that  I  consider  it 
now. 

The  first  step  then,  which  any  of  you  are  to  take,  in  order 
to  break  the  chains  of  any  sinful  habit  winch  you  have 
formed  is,  to  coif  ess  it  fully  and  freely.  That  single  act 
will  do  more  to  give  your  fault  its  death  blow,  than  almost 
any  thing  else  you  can  do.  If  you  are  a  child,  you  can 
derive  great  assistance  from  confessing  to  your  parents.  If 
you  shrink  from  talking  with  them  face  to  face  about  yonx 
follies  and  faults,  you  can  write.  Or  confess,  and  express 
your  determination  to  amend,  to  some  confidential  friend  of 
your  own  age  :  but  above  all  be  sure  to  confess  to  God. 
Lay  the  whole  case  before  him,  in  full  detail.  1  cannot 
press  upon  you  too  fully  the  necessity  of  being  distinct  and 
definite,  and  going  into  fill   detail,  in  these  confessions. 

There  is  one  very  erroneous  impression  which  young  per- 
sons receive  from  hearing  public  prayer.  It  is  always,  as  it 
ought  to  be,  general  in  its  language,  both  of  confession  and 
request.  Take  for  instance  the  language  of  the  prayer  book 
of  the  Church  of  England,  so  admirably  adapted  to  its  pur- 
pose. 

"  We  have  erred  and  strayed  from  thy  ways  like  lost  sheep. 
We  have  followed  too  much  the  devices  and  desires  of  our  own 
hearts.  We  have  offended  against  thy  holj'  laws.  We  have 
left  undone,  those  things  which  we  ought  to  have  done ;  And 
we  have  done  those  things  which  we  ought  not  to  have  done. 
And  there  is  no  health  in  us." 

How  general  is  this  language.  It  is  so  with  our  Savioui-'s 
model  of  prayer.     "  Forgive  us  our  debts,  as  we  forgive  those 


264  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Secret  pmyer  often  too  general.  NN  ay  lo  make  prayer  interesting. 

who  are  indebled  to  us."  Public  prayer  ought  to  be  some- 
what general  in  its  expressions,  for  it  is  the  united  voice  often 
of  thousands,  aiui  expresses  only  the  acknowledgements  and 
the  petitions  which  are  common  to  them  all. 

But  the  mistake  that  multitudes  fall  into  is  that  when 
they  begin  to  pray  themselves,  they  take  public  prayer  as 
the  model  for  secret  supplication,  and  they  spend  their  sea- 
son of  retirement, in  repeating  ike  same  general  supplications, 
which  they  hear  from  the  pulpit  in  the  hour  of  public  wor- 
ship. But  this  is  a  very  great  error.  The  very  object  of 
secret  prayer  is  to  afford  the  soul  an  opportunitj^  of  going  mi- 
nutely into  its  own  particular  and  private  case.  There  is  no 
magic  in  solitude — no  mysterious  influence  in  the  closet  itself, 
to  purify  and  sanctify  the  heart.  It  is  the  opportunity  which 
the  closet  affords  of  bringing  forward  the  individual  case  in 
all  its  particularity  and  detail,  which  gives  to  secret  devo- 
tion its  immense  moral  power.  I'he  general  and  compre- 
hensive language  which  is  adopted  in  public  prayer,  is  thus 
adopted  because  it  is  the  object  of  public  pra3'er  to  express 
only  those  wants,  and  to  confess  those  sins  which  are  com- 
mon to  all  who  join  in  it.  The  language  must  necessarily, 
therefore,  be  general.  But  it  is  always  the  intention  of  those 
who  use  it,  that  minute  detail  should  be  given  in  private 
supplications.  In  the  praj^er  of  the  church  of  England  for 
example,  the  morning  praj'er  for  families  is  printed  thus : 

*  '<  Here  let  him  "  ^^  come  before  thee  in  an  humble  sense 

who  reaiLs  make  a  of  our    unworthiness,    acknowledging    our 

short  pause,  that  manifold    transgressions   of    thy   righteous 

every    one    may  |,^^^g  #     g^^^  q  crracious  Father,  who  desir- 

confess    tlie    sms         ^        ^     .        i      n       r         •  i      i 

and  faltino-s  of  ^^^  ^^^^  ^'^"^^  death  ot  a  sinner,  look  upon  us, 
that  day."  °  we  beseech  thee,  in  mercy,  and  forgive  us  all 

our  transgressions." 

Here  you  will  observe  that  on  the  margin  it  is  suggested 
that  this  entering  into  detail  should  be  done  even  in  the  fam- 
ily worship.  How  much  more  when  the  individual  has  re- 
tired alone,  for  the  very  purpose  of  bringing  forward  the  pe- 
culiar circumstances  of  his  own  case. 

This  is  the  only  way  to  make  secret  prayer  interesting,  as 
well  as  profitable.  A  child,  just  before  retiring  to  rest,  at- 
tempts to  preiy.  He  uses  substantially  the  expressions  which 
he  has  heard  in  the  pulpit.  "  I  acknowledge  that  I  am  a 
great  sinner.     I  have  this  day  done  many  things  which  are 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  '265 

Formal  confession.      Excuses.      Way  to  make  secret  prayer  interesting. 

wrong- ;  I  have  neglected  many  duties,  and  broken  many  of 
the  commands."  Now  how  easy  is  it  for  a  person  to  say  all 
this  with  apparent  fervor,  and  yet  have,  present  to  his  mind 
while  saying  it,  no  one  act  in  which  he  really  feels  that  he 
has  done  wrong,  and  consequently  no  distinct  mental  feeling 
that  he  is  guilty.  Our  confessions,  half  of  the  time,  amount 
to  nothing  more  than  a  general  acknowledgment  of  the  doc- 
trine of  human  depravity.  "  I  humbly  confess  that  I  have 
been  a  great  sinner  this  day,"  says  a  Christian  at  his  evening 
prayer,  and  while  he  says  it,  the  real  state  of  his  mind  is, 
"  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  so.  All  men  are  sinners,  and 
I  know  I  am."  As  to  any  distinct  and  definite  feeling  of 
personal  guilt,  it  is  ohcuihe  farthest  from  the  mind  while 
using  such  language. 

It  is  astonishing  how  easily  and  how  soon  we  become  hab- 
ituated to  the  general  language  of  confession,  so  as  to  use  it 
most  freely  without  any  sense  of  personal  guilt.  A  parent 
will  reprove  a  boy  for  a  fault,  and  the  boy  will,  as  the  father 
goes  over  the  details,  defend  and  excuse  himself  at  every 
step.  Here  he  will  lay  off  the  blame  upon  his  brother, — 
there  he  will  say  he  did  not  know  what  else  to  do, — and  in 
another  respect  he  will  say  that  he  tried  to  do  as  well  as  ha 
could.  And  yet  after  he  has  finished  all  this,  he  will  sav 
gravely,  "  But  I  do  not  pretend  to  excuse  myself  I  know  I 
have  done  wrong."  I  have  had  such  cases  occur  continual- 
ly in  the  management  of  the  young. 

But  do  not  forget  what  is  the  subject  of  this  chapter.  It 
is  the  means  of  correcting  faults,  and  as  the  first  means,  I 
am  describing  full  and  particular  confession  of  the  sins  you 
wish  to  avoid  in  future.  Before  I  go  on,  however,  I  wish  to 
say  one  thing  in  regard  to  the  influence  of  going  into  minute 
detail  in  prayer.  It  is  the  only  way  to  make  pmyer  inter- 
esting. When  you  come  at  night  with  a  mind  wearied  and 
exhausted  with  the  labors  of  the  day,  you  find  your  thong-hts 
wandering  in  prayer.  No  complaint  is  more  common  than 
this.  There-  is  scarcely  any  question  which  is  asked  of  a 
pastor  more  frequently  than  this :  "  How  shall  I  avoid  the 
sin  of  wandering  thoughts  in  prayer."  It  would  be  asked, 
too,  much  oftener  than  it  is,  were  it  not  that  Christians  shrink 
from  acknowledging  to  their  religious  teachers,  a  fault  which 
seems  to  imply  their  want  of  interest  in  spiritual  things. 
Now  the  remedy,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  is,  coming  to  par- 
ticulars in  your  prayers.  Have  no  long  formal  exordiums. 
23 


266  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 


Private  prayer.  Examples  of  minute  confession. 

Abandon  the  common  phrases  of  general  confession  and  re- 
quest, and  come  at  once  to  the  particular  circumstances  and 
minute  wants  and  trials  of  the  dscy.  Describe  not  only  par- 
ticular faults  but  all  the  minute  attending  circumstances. 
Feel  that  you  are  alone ; — that  the  restraints  of  publicity 
are  removed  from  you  ; — that  you  may  safely  abandon  the 
phraseology  and  the  form  which  a  proper  respect  for  the  cus- 
toms of  men  retains  in  the  pulpit  and  at  the  family  altar, 
and  come  and  converse  with  your  great  Protector  as  a  man 
converses  with  his  friend,  and  remember  that  if  you  fasten 
upon  one  word  which  you  have  spoken  with  an  improper 
spirit,  and  confess  your  guilt  in  that  one  sin,  mentioning  all 
the  circumstances  which  gave  it  its  true  character,  and  ex- 
posing the  wicked  emotions  which  dictated  it,  you  make 
more  truly  a  coiifession  than  by  repeating  solemnly  the  best 
expression  of  the  doctrine  of  human  depravity  that  creed,  or 
catechism,  or  system  of  theology  can  furnish. 

But  to  return  to  the  modes  of  correcting  faults.  If  your 
fault  is  one  which  long  habit  has  rivetted  very  closely  upon 
you,  I  would  recommend  that  you  confess  it  in  writing.  It 
is  more  distinct,  and  what  you  put  upon  paper,  you  impress 
very  strongly  upon  your  mind.  Suppose  when  evening 
comes,  in  reflecting. upon  the  events  of  the  day,  you  remem- 
ber an  act  of  unkind ness  to  a  younger  brother.  Now  sit 
down  and  write  a  full  description  of  it,  and  make  it  appear 
in  its  true  light.  Do  not  exaggerate  it  nor  extenuate  it,  but 
paint  it  in  its  true  colors.  Express  your  sorrow,  if  you  feel 
any,  and  express  just  as  much  as  you  feel.  Be  honest.  Use 
no  cant  phrases  of  acknowledgment,  but  just  put  upon  pa- 
per your  actual  feelings  in  regard  to  the  transaction.  Now 
after  you  have  done  this,  you  may  if  you  please,  just  fold 
up  the  paper  and  put  it  into  the  fire  ; — but  3^ou  cannot  put  into 
the  fire  the  vivid  impression  of  your  guilt  which  this  mode  of 
confession  will  produce.  Or  you  ma3^  if  yo\x  prefer  it,  preserve 
it  for  a  time,  that  you  may  read  it  again  and  renew  the  im- 
pression before  you  destroy  it.  But  it  will  be  better  to  de- 
stro}'-  it  at  last.  It  is  not  in  human  nature  to  write  its  thoughts 
in  such  a  case,  with  the  intention  of  preserving  the  record, 
without  being  secretly  influenced  by  the  probability  that  the 
description  will  sooner  or  later,  be  seen. 

But  I  must  pass  to  the  second  step  in  the  progress  of  re- 
moving a  fault.  It  is  watchfulness.  Suppose  that  the  fath- 
er in  the  case  which  I  have  imagined  in  order  to  illustrate 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  267 

The  Father's  Letter,  Object  of  this  illustration. 

this  subject,  should  say  to  his  son,  or  which  would  be  better 
still,  should  write  to  him  as  follows ; 

"  My  dear  son, — I  received  your  account  of  the  instances  in 
which  you  have  shewn  vanity.  I  am  very  glad  you  are 
disposed  to  correct  yourself  of  this  fault,  and  will  now  tell 
you  what  you  are  to  do  next. 

"  You  would  without  doubt,  if  you  had  had  instances, 
thought  of  many  more  instances,  but  you  would  not  have 
thought  of  all.  A  great  many  would  have  escaped  your  no- 
tice. You  shew  vanity  many  times  when  yoio  do  not  know 
it  yourself.  When  we  are  habituated  to  doing  any  thing 
wrong,  we  become  blinded  by  it,  so  that  the  vainest  people 
in  the  world  scarcely  know  that  they  are  vain  at  all.  Now 
the  next  step  you  are  to  take  is  to  regain  moral  sensibility 
on  this  subject,  so  as  to  know  clearly  what  vanity  is,  and  al- 
ways to  notice  when  you  are  guilty  of  it.  The  way  to  do 
this  is  for  you  to  watch  yourself.  Notice  your  conduct  for 
two  days,  and  whenever  you  detect  yourself  displaying  van- 
ity on  any  occasion,  go  and  make  a  memorandum  of  it. 
You  need  not  write  a  full  description  of  it.  for  you  would  fre- 
quently not  have  time :  but  write  enough  to  remind  you  of 
it,  and  then  at  the  end  of  the  two  days,  send  the  list  to  me. 
In  the  mean  time  I  will  observe  you,  and  if  I  see  any  in- 
stances of  this  fault  I  will  remember  them,  and  see  if  I  re- 
collect any  which  you  have  not  marked  dowix 

"  It  will  not  be  very  pleasant,  my  son,  to  w^atch  yourself 
thus  for  faults,  but  it  is  the  most  effectual  means  of  removing 
them.  You  may  however  do  just  as  you  please  about  adopt- 
ing this  plan.  If  you  adopt  it  send  your  catalogue  to  me. 
If  3^ou  do  not,  you  need  not  say  anj^  thing  about  it. 

'  Your  affectionate  Parent, ." 

Now  I  wish  my  young  hearers  to  understand  that  though 
I  have  described  so  fully  this  case,  partly  with  a  design  to 
show  to  parents  a  good  way  to  lead  their  children  to 
virtue,  yet  my  main  design  is  to  explain  to  the  young  a 
course  which  they  may  take  themselves  immediately  to  cor- 
rect their  faults.  I  am  in  hopes  that  many  a  one  who  reads 
this  chapter  will  say  to  himself,  "  I  have  some  faults  which 
I  should  like  to  correct,  and  I  will  try  this  experiment." 
I  wish  you  would  try  the  experiment,  you  all  know  what 
your  faults  are.    One  can  remember  that  he  is  very  often  un- 


268  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Faults  to  be  corrected.  Young  and  old  Persons. 

dutiful  or  disrespectful  to  his  parents.  Another  is  aware 
that  she  is  not  always  kind  to  her  sister.  Another  is  irri- 
table— often  gets  in  a  passion.  Another  is  forward  and 
talkative ;  her  friends  have  often  reproved  her,  but  she  has 
never  made  any  real  systematic  effort  to  reform.  Another  is 
indolent, — often  neglecting  known  duties  and  wasting  time. 
Thus  every  person  under  twenty-hve  years  of  age,  is  the  vic- 
tim of  some  moral  disease,  from  which,  though  they  maybe 
Ciiristians,  they  are  not  fully  freed.  Now  just  try  m}^  pre- 
scription. Take  the  two  steps  which  I  have  described  Con- 
fess fully  and  minutely  the  particular  fault,  which  you  wish 
first  to  correct, — for  it  is  best  to  attack  one  enemy  at  a 
time, — and  then  with  careful  watchfulness  keep  a  record  of 
your  subsequent  transgressions.  You  cannot  do  this  with  a 
proper  spirit  of  dependance  on  God,  and  accountability  to 
him,  without  breaking  the  chains  of  any  fault  or  any  hab- 
it, which  may  be  now  domineering  over  you.  The  efficacy  of 
such  moral  treatment  in  these  moral  diseases,  is  far  more  cer- 
tain and  powerful  than  that  of  bark  in  fever,  or  of  any  cor- 
dial in  restoring  the  fainting  powers.  I  hope  therefore  that 
every  young  person  who  reads  this  will  not  merely  express 
a  cool  approbation  of  these  plans,  but  will  resolutely  set 
to  work  in  examining  his  character  and  in  trying  these 
methods  of  altering  or  improving  it, 

"  Every  young  person? — And  wh}^  not  those  who  are  not 
young?"  Says  some  one.  "Why  cannot  the  old  correct 
their  faults  in  this  way?"  They  can,  but  they  will  not. 
I  recommend  it  exclusively  to  the  young,  not  because  it  is 
less  efficacious  with  the  others,  but  because  others  will  not 
cordially  try  it.  The  difficulty  which  prevents  middle  aged 
persons  going  on  as  rapidly  as  the  young  in  improvement  of 
every  kind,  is  because  they  are  not  so  easily  induced  to  make 
the  effort.  It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  it  is  easier  for  a 
child  to  reform  than  a  man.  A  child  is  told  of  his  faults  ; 
the  politeness  of  society  forbids  mentioning  them  to  a 
man.  A  child  is  encouraged  and  urged  forward  in  efforts  to 
improve.  The  man  is  solitary  in  his  resolutions  and  unaid- 
ed in  his  efforts.  A  child  is  willing  to  do  any  thing.  Con- 
fession is  not  so  humiliating  to  it.  Keeping  a  catalogue 
of  its  sins  is  not  so  shrunk  from.  If  the  man 'of  fifty  is 
willing  to  do  what  the  boy  of  fifteen  does,  he  may  improve 
twice  as  fast.     Some  of  the  most  remarkable  cases  of  rapid 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  269 

Other  means  of  correcling  faults  Exposure  to  temptation. 

alteration  and  improvement  of  character  which  I  have  ever 
known  have  been  m  the  dechne  of  age. 

Let  me  say  therefore  respectfully  to  those  who  may 
chance  to  read  this  book,  but  who  are  beyond  the  age  for 
which  it  is  specially  intended, — that  we  all  have  faults, 
which  we  ought  to  discover  and  attempt  to  improve.  They 
affect  our  happmess.  They  bring  us  down  lower  than  we 
should  otherwise  stand  in  the  estnuation  of  others.  Thus 
they  impede  our  influence  and  usefulness.  If  we  would 
now  explore  and  correct  these,  taking  some  such  thorough 
going  course  as  I  have  described,  how  rapidly  w^e  should  at 
once  rise  in  usefulness  and  happiness.  Instead  of  that,  how- 
ever, we  listen  to  moral  and  religious  instruction  from  the 
pulpit,  to  admire  the  form  of  its  expression,  or  perhaps  to 
fix  the  general  principles  in  our  hearts,  but  the  business  of 
exploring  thoroughly  oi.ir  own  characters  to  ascertain  their 
real  condition, — and  going  earnestly  to  work  upon  all  the 
detail  of  actual  and  minute  repair, — pulling  down  in  this 
place,  building  up  in  that,  and  altering  in  the  other, — ah  ! 
this  is  a  business  with  which,  beyond  twenty-five,  we  have 
but  little  to  do. 

But  I  must  go  on  with  my  account  of  the  means  of  cor- 
recting faujts,  for  I  have  one  more  expedient  to  describe.  I 
have  been  digressing  a  little  to  urge  you  to  apply  practical- 
ly what  I  say  to  yourselves,  and  resolve  to  try  the  experi- 
ment. This  one  more  expedient  relates  to  your  exposure  to 
temptation.  In  regard  to  temptation  you  have  I  think  two 
duties.  First  to  avoid  all  great  temptations,  and  secondly 
to  encounter  the  small  ones,  with  a  determination,  by  God's 
blessing,  to  conquer  them. 

A  boy  knows,  I  will  imagine,  that  he  has  an  irritable 
spirit.  He  wishes  to  cure  himself  of  it.  I  will  suppose 
that  he  has  taken  the  two  steps  I  have  already  described, 
and  now  as  the  morning  comes,  and  he  is  about  to  go  forth 
to  the  exposures  of  the  day,  we  may  suppose  him  to  hold 
the  following  conversation  with  his  father  or  some  other 
friend. 

'  Boy.  •'  Now  I  have  made  a  great  many  resolutions  and 
I  am  really  desirous  of  not  becoming  angry  and  impatient 
to  day.  But  I  always  do  and  I  am  afraid  I  always 
shall." 

Friend.     "Do  you  always?     Do  you  get  angry  every 

*23 


270  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


Conversation  between  the  boy  anti  his  friend. 


Boy.  "  I  do  almost  always.  Whenever  any  tiling  hap- 
pens to  vex  me." 

Friend.  "  What  are  the  most  common  things  that  hap- 
pen to  vex  you?" 

"Why  I  almost  always  get  angry  playing  marbles. 
George  doesn't  play  fair,  and  I  get  angry  with  him,  and  he 
gets  angry  with  me." 

"  Do  you  always  get  angry,  playing  marbles  ?" 

"  We  do  very  often  " 

"  Then  1  advise  you  to  avoid  playing  marbles  altogether. 
i  know  you  like  to  play,  but  if  you  tind  it  atiords  too  great  a 
temptation  for  you  to  resist,  you  must  abandon  it,  or  you  will 
not  cure  yourself  of  your  fault.  What  other  temptations  do 
you  have?" 

"  Why  1  get  put  out  with  my  sums  at  school." 

"  Get  put  out  with  your  sums  ! — What  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

"  Why  I  get  impatient  and  vexed  because  I  cannot  do 
them,  and  tlien  1  get  angry  with  them." 

'  What,  with  the  sums!'' 

"■  Yes  with  the  sums,  and  the  book,  and  the  slate,  and  ev- 
ery thing  else,  I  know  it  is  very  foolish  and  wicked." 

"  Well,  now  I  advise  you  to  take  your  slate  and  pencil  to 
day  and  lind  some  difficult  sum,  such  an  one  as  you  have 
often  been  angry  with,  and  sit  down  calmly  to  work,  and 
see  if  you  cannot  go  through  it,  and  fail  of  doing  it,  and 
yet  not  feel  vexed  and  angry.  Think  before  you  begin  how 
sad  it  is  for  you  to  be  under  the  controul  of  wicked  passions, 
and  ask  God  to  help  you,  and  then  go  on,  expecting  to  find 
difficulty,  and  endeavoring  to  meet  it  with  a  calm  and  pa- 
tient spirit.  If  you  succeed  in  this,  you  will  really  ii^iprove 
while  you  do  it.  By  gaining  one  victory  over  yourself,  you 
will  mike  another  more  easy." 

"  Which  do  you  think  is  the  greatest  temptation  for  you, 
to  plav  marbles  or  to  do  sums?  " 

*'  Why,  I  thi^k  playing  marbles,  because  the  boys  don't 
play  fair." 

"  Well ;  now  I  wish  you  to  practice  the  easiest  lesson 
first  Conquer  yourself  in  your  arithmetical  temptation  first, 
and  then  perha))s  you  can  encounter  the  other,  AimI  1  wish 
you  would  watch  yourself  to  day  and  observe  what  are  the 
trials  which  arc  too  great  for  you  to  bear,  and  avoid  them 
until  you  have  acquired   more  moral  strength,  -  But  do  not 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  "271 

Great  and  small  lemplalions.  Growing  in  grace. 

flee  from  any  lernptation  which  you  think  you  can  resist. 
By  meeting  and  rerfi.sting  it,  you  will  advance  in  your 
course." 

Now  this  is  the  case  in  the  correction  of  all  faults.  The 
temptations  which  you  think  you  will  not  be  successful  in 
resisting,  you  ought  to  avoid,  no  matter  at  what  sacrifice, 
and  though  you  ought  not  to  seek  the  trial  of  your  strength, 
yet  where  Providence  gives  you  trial,  go  forward  to  the  effort 
which  it  requires  with  confidence  in  His  help,  and  with 
resolution  to  do  your  duty.  If  you  have  the  right  spirit, 
he  will  help  you,  and  virtuous  principle  will  growVjy  any  ex- 
posure which  does  not  overpower  it. 

I  have  however  spoken  more  fully  on  this  subject,  in  the 
chapter  of  discipline  and  trial,  where  the  general  effect  of 
such  discipline  as  we  have  here  to  pass  through,  was  point- 
ed out.  1  have  here  only  alluded  to  it  again,  to  show  how 
important  an  auxiliary  it  is  in  the  correction  of  particular 
faults. 

But  1  must  pass  to  the  consideration  of  another  part  of 
my  subject,  for  the  correction  of  absolute  faults  of  character 
is  by  no  means  the  only  or  even  the  most  important  object  of 
attention  in  Christian  progress.  The  spirit  of  piety  which 
is  the  main  spring  of  all  these  efforts  in  the  improvement  of 
the  character  is  to  be  directly  cultivated.  The  command 
"  grow  in  grace,"  seems  to  refer  to  this  progress  in  the  spirit 
of  jtieAy  itself.  The  correction  of  external  faults,  and  the 
improvement  of  ttie  character  in  all  those  aspects  in  which 
intercourse  between  man  and  man  is  concerned,  will  result 
from  it.  But  it  is  itself  something  different  from  tViese  ex- 
ternal changes.  To  grow  in  grace  is  to  have  the  heart  it- 
self so  changed  that  sin  shall  become  more  and  more  hate- 
ful, the  promotion  of  the  general  happiness  an  increasing 
object  of  interest  and  desire, — and  the  soul  more  and  more 
closely  united  to  God,  so  as  to  receive  its  happiness  alone 
from  him. 

This  now  is  a  change  in  the  affections  of  the  heart.  Im- 
provement in  conduct  will  result  from  it,  but  it  is  in  itself  es- 
sentially different  from  right  conduct.  It  is  the  fountain, 
from  which  good  actions  are  the  streams.  I  wish  therefore 
that  every  one  of  my  readers  would  now  turn  his  attention 
to  this  subject,  and  inquire  with  me,  by  what  means  he  may 
grow  most  rapidly,  in  attachment  to  the  Saviour  and  in  ha- 


U7il  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Unavailing  efforts.  The  moilier.  The  man  of  business. 

tred  of  sin.  A  very  unwise  and  mefiectual  kind  of  effort  is 
very  oflen  made,  which  1  shall  tirst  describe,  and  then  pro- 
ceed to  describe  the  means  which  may  be  successful  in 
drawing  the  heart  closer  and  closer  to  Jehovah. 

1.  -  To  illustrate  the  unavailing  efforts  which  are  some- 
times made  to  awaken  in  the  heart  a  deeper  and  deeper  in- 
terest in  piety,  I  will  suppose  a  case,  and  it  is  a  case  which 
is  exceedingly  common.  A  professing  Christian,  and  to 
make  the  case  more  definite,  1  will  sup^ese  the  individual  to 
be  the  mother  of  a  famil3% — feels  that  she  does  not  love  God 
as  she  ought,  and  she  is  consequently  unhappy.  She  is 
aware  that  her  affections  are  placed  too  strongly  perhaps  up- 
on her  family — her  children.  She  knows  that  she  is  a 
wanderer  from  her  Saviour,  and  feels  at  all  times,  when  she 
thinks  of  religious  duty,  a  settled  uneasiness  which  mars 
many  of  her  enjoyments  and  often  saddens  her  heart.  Now 
what  does  she  do  to  remedy  this  difficulty.  Why,  when  the 
week  is  past,  and  her  hour  for  prayer  on  the  Sabbath  has 
arrived,  she  thinks  a  little  of  her  cold  and  wa3'ward  condi- 
tion, and  tries  by  direct  effort, — to  arouse  in  her  heart  feel- 
ings of  penitence  and  love.  But  she  tries  in  vain.  I  ac- 
knowledge that  she  is  very  guilt}'-  in  being  in  such  a  state, 
but  if  she  is  so,  her  direct  efforts  to  feel  will  be  vain. 
She  will  have  for  an  hour  a  weary  and  melancholy  strug- 
gle,— the  Sabbath  will  pass  away,  rendered  gloomy  by  her 
condition,  and  her  reflections, — and  Monday  morning  will 
come  with  its  worldly  cares  and  enjoyments,  to  drift  her  still 
farther  away  from  God  and  from  happiness. 

A  man  of  business  engrossed  in  the  management  of  his 
prosperous  affairs  knows  that  he  is  not  living  to  Ood.  And 
3'et  he  is  a  member  of  a  Christian  church  ; — he  has  solemn- 
ly consecrated  Viimself  to  the  Saviour,  and  when  he  thinks 
of  it,  he  really  wishes  that  his  heart  was  in  a  different  state. 
The  world  however  holds  him  from  day  to  day,  and  the  only 
thing  which  he  does  to  save  himself  from  wandering  to  a 
returnlcss  distance  from  God,  is  to  strive  a  little  morning  and 
evening  at  his  short  period  of  secret  devotion,  to  feel  his 
sins.  He  makes  direct  effort  to  urge  his  heart  to  gratitude. 
He  perhaps  kneels  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  knowing 
how  little  love  for  God  he  really  feels,  he  exerts  every  nerve 
to  bring  his  heart  to  love  God.  He  is  tryinir  to  control  his 
affections  by  direct  effort, — and  he  probably  fails.  He  is  striv- 
ing in  vain.     He  soon  becomes  discouraged  and  yields  him- 


PESSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  273 

The  dejected  Clirislian.  Direct  eflbrts. 

self  again  to  the  current  which  is  bearing  him  away  from 
hoHness  and  peace. 

I  once  knew  a  young  man,  and  while  I  describe  his  case 
it  is  possible  that  there  may  be  many  of  the  readers  of  this 
chapter  who  will  say  his  case  is  like  theirs, — who  had  a 
faint  hope  that  he  was  a  Christian, — but  hrs  penitence  was, 
in  his  opinion,  so  feeble  and  heartless,  his  love  to  God  w^as  so 
cold,  and  his  spark  of  grace,  if  there  was  any  in  his  heart, 
was  so  faint  and  languishing, — that  he  scarcely  dared  to 
hope.  He  did  not  therefore  take  the  stand  or  perform  the 
duties  of  a  Christian.  He  thought  he  must  make  more  pro- 
gress himself  in  piety,  before  he  endeavored  to  do  any  good 
to  others.  He  was  accordmgly  attempting  to  make  this  pro- 
gress. He  struggled  with  his  own  heart,  to  awaken  strong- 
er love  and  deeper  penitence  there ; — but  it  was  a  sad  and 
almost  fruitless  struggle.  He  became  dejected  and  despond- 
ing. He  thought  his  heart  was  still  cold  and  hardened  in 
sin,  and  that  religious  feeling  would  not  come  at  his  bidding  j 
and  he  continued  for  a  long  time  unhappy  himself  and  use- 
less to  others. 

The  principle  which  I  have  been  designing  to  illustrate  by 
these  cases,  is,  that  the  best  way  to  improve  or  alter  the  af- 
fections of  the  heart,  is  not  by  direct  eforts  upon  the  heart 
itself  The  degree  of  power  which  man  has  directly  over 
the  affections  of  the  heart  is  very  limited.  A  mere  theorist 
will  say,  he  must  have  entire  control  over  them,  or  they 
cannot  be  blameworthy  or  praiseworthy.  But  no  one  but 
the  merest  theorist  will  say  this.  A  benevolent  man,  dur- 
ing an  inclement  season,  seiids  fuel  to  a  destitute  and  suf- 
fering family,  and  perhaps  goes  himself  to  visit  and  to  cheer 
the  sick  one  there.  Does  not  he  take  a  great  pleasure  in 
thus  relieving  misery,— and  is  not  this  benevolent  feel- 
ing praiseworthy  ?  And  yet  it  is  not  under  his  direct  con-. 
trol, — -he  cannot  possibly  help  taking  pleasure  in  relieving 
suffering.  Suppose  I  w^ere  to  say  to  him,  "  Sir,  just  to  try  a 
philosophical  experiment,  will  you  just  alter  your  heart  so 
as  to  be  glad  to  know  that  people  are  suffering.  I  wnll  tell 
you  the  facts  about  a  child  which  perished  with  the  cold, 
and  w^hile  I  do  it,  will  you  so  alter  your  heart,  (which  must 
be  entirely  under  vour  control  or  else  its  emotions  cannot  be 
praiseworthy  or  blameworthy,) — as  to  delierht  in  that  cruel 
suffering.     How  absurd  would  this  be,     The  man  must  be 


274  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Freedom  of  feeling  and  freedom  of  action. 


pained     to    hear    of   sufiering    he    cannot  help — and  yet 
sympathy  with  the  sorrows  of  others  is  praiseworthy. 

Again,  sister  and  sister  have  become  ahenated  from  each 
other.  The  feehng  which  was  at  first  coldness,  has  become 
dislike,  and  now  they  are  satisfied  that  they  whom  God  has 
placed  so  near  together,  ought  not  to  be  sundered  in  heart. 
Suppose  the  parent  were  to  say  to  them,  "  1  know  you  can 
love  each  other  and  you  ought  to  love  each  other,  and  I  com- 
mand you  immediately  to  do  it."  They  may  fear  parental 
displeasure, — they  may  know  that  they  should  be  happier 
if  they  were  united  in  heart, — but  will  aflection  come  at 
once  at  their  call '? 

The  entire  free  agency  of  man, — by  which  is  meant  his 
freedom  from  all  external  restraint  in  his  conduct, — cannot 
be  asserted  too  frequently,  or  kept  too  distinctly  in  the  view 
of  every  human  being.  There  is  such  a  thing  however  as 
presenting  this  subject  in  such  a  light,  as  to  lead  the  mind 
to  the  erroneous  idea  that  all  the  affections  of  the  heart,  are 
in  the  same  sense  under  the  control  of  the  will,  as  the  mo- 
tions of  the  body  are.  I  do  not  mean  that  any  respectable 
writer  or  preacher  will  advocate  such  a  view,  but  only  that 
in  expressing  his  belief  in  human  freedom  in  sweeping  and 
unqualified  terms,  he  may  unintentionally  convey  the  im- 
pression. There  is  unquestionable  a  very  essential  difference 
between  a  man's  freedom  of  feeling,  and  his  freedom  of  act- 
ing. A  man  may  be  induced  to  act  by  a  great  variety  of 
means.  A  motive  of  any  kind,  if  strong  enough,  will  be 
sufficient.  Suppose  for  instance,  a  sea  captain  wishes  to  in- 
duce a  man  to  leap  off  from  the  deck  of  his  ship  into  the 
sea,  he  may  attempt  in  a  great  many  ways  to  obtain  his  ob- 
ject. He  may  command  him  to  do  it  and  threaten  punish- 
ment if  he  disobeys.  He  may  try  to  hire  him  to  do  it.  He 
may  show  the  sailor  that  his  little  son  has  fallen  overboard, 
and  thus  induce  the  parent  to  risk  his  life  that  he  may  save 
that  of  his  child.  He  may  thus  in  various  wnys  appeal  to  very 
different  feelings  of  thehumnn  heort,  love  of  money,  fear,  or 
parental  affection,  and  if  by  either  of  these  the  volition,  as 
metaphysicians  term  it, — i.  e.  the  determ.inalion,  can  be 
formed,  the  man  goes  overboard  in  a  moment.  He  can  do 
anything  which  from  any  motive  whatever,  he  resolves  to 
do. 

In  regard  however  to  the  feelings  of  the  heart,  it  is  far 
•iifferent.     Though  man  is  equally  a  free  agent  in  res-ard 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  275 

Way  to  mould  the  heart.  Metaphysical  controversy. 

to  these,  it  is  in  quite  a  different  way.  That  is,  the  feehngs 
of  the  heart  are  not  to  be  managed  and  controlled  by  sim- 
ple determinations  ;  as  this  external  conduct  may  be.  Sup- 
pose for  instance  the  Captain  wished  that  sailor  to  be  grate- 
ful for  some  favor  he  had  received,  and  of  which  he  had  been 
entirely  regardless  ; — and  suppose  he  should  command  him  to 
be  grateful,  and  threaten  hiin  with  some  punishment  if  he 
should  refuse.  Or  suppose  he  should  endeavor  to  hire  him 
to  be  grateful, — or  should  try  to  persuade  him  to  be  thank- 
ful for  past  favors  in  order  to  get  more.  It  would  be  ab- 
surd. Gratitude  like  any  other  feeling  of  the  heart,  though 
it  is  of  a  moral  nature,  and  though  man  is  perfectly  free  in 
exercising  it,  will  not  always  come,  whenever  the  man 
determines  to  bring  it. 

The  external  conduct  is  controlled  by  the  determination 
of  the  mind,  on  whatever  motives  those  determinations  may 
be  founded, — but  the  feelings  and  affections  of  the  heart  are 
under  no  such  direct  control. 

There  is  certainly,  for  all  practical  purposes,  a  great  dis- 
tinction between  the  heart  and  the  conduct ; — between  the 
moral  condition  of  the  soul  and  those  specific  acts,  which 
arise  from  it.  Two  children,  a  dutiful  and  a  disobedient  one, 
are  walking  together  in  a  beautiful  garden,  and  suddenly 
the  gardener  tells  them  that  their  father  did  not  wish  them 
to  walk  there.  Now  how  difierent  will  be  the  effect  which 
this  annunication  will  make  upon  them.  The  one  will 
immediately  obey,  leaving  with  alacritj^  the  place  which  his 
father  did  not  wish  him  to  pass.  The  other  will  linger,  and 
make  excuses,  or  perhaps  altogether  disobey.  Just  before 
they  received  the  communication  they  were  perhaps  not 
thinking  of  their  father  at  all,  but  though  their  minds  were 
acting  on  other  subjects,  they  possessed  distinct  and  opposite 
characters  as  sons,  characters  which  rendered  it  probable  that 
one  would  comply  with  his  father's  wishes  as  soon  as  those 
wishes  should  be  known,  and  that  the  other  would  not.  So 
in  all  other  cases,  a  dishonest  man  is  dishonest  in  character, 
when  he  is  not  actualh^  stealing,  and  a  humble  and  devoted 
Christian  will  have  his  heart  in  a  right  state,  even  when  he 
is  entirely  ingrossed  in  some  intellectual  pursuit,  or  involved 
in  the  perplexities  of  business. 

I  am  aware  that  among  metaphysical  philosophers  there  is 
a  controversy  on  the  question  w^hether  all  which  is  of  a  mor- 
al nature,  i.  e.  which  is  blameworthy  or  praiseworthy,  may 


'276  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


Story  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucester. 


not  be  shown  to  be  specific,  voluntary  acts  of  the  moral  be- 
ing. Into  this  question  I  do  not  intend  to  enter  at  all ;  — 
for  if  what  is  commonly  called  character  in  contradistinc- 
tion from  conduct,  may  be  resolved  into  voluntary  acts,  it  is 
certainly  to  be  done  only  by  a  nice  metaphysical  analysis, 
which  common  Christians  cannot  be  expected  to  follow. 
To  illustrate  the  nature  of  this  question  I  must  give  the  fol- 
lowing narrative  which  I  take  from  Hume  with  some  alter- 
ations of  form,  to  make  it  more  intelligible  in  this  connection. 

In  early  periods  of  the  English  histoiy,  Richard,  duke  of 
Gloucester,  a  intriguing  and  ambitious  man,  formed  the  de- 
sign of  usurping  the  throne.  The  former  king  had  left  sev- 
eral children,  whow^ere  the  proper  heirs  to  the  crown.  They 
were  how^ever  youngs  and  Richard  gained  possession  of  the 
government,  ostensibly  that  he  might  manage  it  until  they 
were  of  age,  when  he  w^as  to  surrender  it  to  them  again, — 
but  reallj^  with  the  design  of  putting  them  and  all  their  in- 
fluential friends  to  death,  and  thus  usurping  the  throne. 

One  of  the  most  powerful  and  faithful  friends  of  the 
young  princes  was  Lord  Hastings,  the  following  is  the  ac- 
count which  Hume  gives  of  the  manner  in  which  he  was 
murdered  by  Richard. 

"The  duke  of  Gloucester  knowing  the  importance  of  gain- 
ing Lord  Hastings,  sounded  at  a  distance,  his  sentiments,  by 
means  of  a  lawyer  who  lived  in  great  intimacy  with  that 
nobleman  ;  but  found  him  impregnable  in  his  allegiance  and 
fidelity  to  the  children  of  Edward,  who  had  ever  honored 
him  with  his  friendship.  He  saw,  therefore,  that  there  were 
no  longer  any  measures  to  be  kept  with  him  :  and  he  deter- 
mined to  ruin  utterly  the  man  whom  he  despaired  of  engage- 
ing  to  concur  in  his  usurpation.  Accordingly  at  a  certain 
day,  he  summoned  a  council  in  the  Tower:  whither  Lord 
Hastings,  suspecting  no  design  against  him,  repaired  with- 
out hesitation.  The  duke  of  Glousester  was  capable  of 
committing  the  most  bloody  and  treacherous  murders,  with 
the  utmost  coolness  and  indifference.  On  taking  his  place 
at  the  council  table,  he  appeared  in  the  easiest,  and  most  jo- 
vial humor  imaginable.  He  seemed  to  indulge  himself  in 
familiar  conversation  with  the  councillors,  before  they 
should  enter  on  business:  and  having  paid  some  compli- 
ments to  one  of  them  on  the  good  and  early  strawberries 
which  he  raised  in  his  garden,  he  begged  the  favor  of  hav- 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  277 

Richard's  artful  plan.  The  council.  Violent  measures. 

ing  a  dish  of  them,  a  servant  was  immediately  despatched 
to  bring  them  to  iinii.  Richard  then  left  the  council,  as  if 
called  awaj  by  some  other  business;  but  soon  after  return- 
ing, with  an  angry  and  inflamed  countenance,  he  s.sked  them, 

"  What  punishment  do  those  deserve  that  have  plotted 
against  my  life,  who  am  so  nearly  related  to  the  king,  and 
am  entrusted  with  the  administration  of  government  ? " 
Hastings  replied  that  they  merited  the  punishment  of 
traitors.  "  These  traitors,"  then  cried  the  protector,  "are  the 
sorceress,  my  brother's  wife,  and  Jane  Shore,  his  mistress, 
with  others,  their  associates :  see  to  what  a  condition  they 
have  reduced  me  by  their  incantations  and  witchcraft."'"  As 
he  said  this  he  laid  bare  his  arm,  all  shrivelled  and  decayed ; 
but  the  councillors,  who  knew  that  this  infirmity  had  attend- 
ed him  from  his  birth,  looked  on  each  other  with  amaze- 
ment ;   Lord  Hastings  began  to  be  alarmed. 

"  Certainly  my  Lord,"  said  he,  "  if  they  be  guilty  of 
these  crimes  they  deserve  the  severest  punishment." 

"And  do  you  reply  to  me,"  exclaimed  Richard,  "  with 
3''0ur  ifs  and  your  aruls  1  You  are  the  chief  abettor  of  that 
witch  Shore!  You  are  yourself  a  traitor:  aird  by  St.  Paul, 
I  will  not  dine  before  your  head  be  brought  me." 

He  struck  the  table  with  his  hand  :  armed  men  rushed  in 
at  the  signal:  the  councillors  were  thrown  into  the  utmost 
consternation :  and  one  of  the  guards,  as  if  by  accident 
or  a  mistake,  aimed  a  blow  with  a  poll-axe  at  one  of  the 
Lords  named  Stanley,  who,  aware  of  the  danger,  slunk  under 
the  table ;  and  though  he  saved  his  life,  received  a  severe 
wound  in  the  head,  in  Richard's  presence.  Hastings  was 
seized,  was  hurried  away,  and  instantly  beheaded  on  a  tim- 
ber log  which  lay  in  the  courts  of  the  Tower.  Two  hours 
after,  a  proclamation,  so  well  penned  and  fairly  written,  that 
it  must  have  been  prepared  before,  was  read  to  the  citizens 
of  London,  enumerating  his  offences,  and  apologizing  to 
them,  from  the  suddenness  of  the  discovery,  for  the  sudden  ex- 
ecution of  that  nobleman,  who  was  very  popular  among  them. 

After  this  act  of  violence,  Richard  went  forward  with  his 
plans  until  he  attained  complete  ultimate  success.  He  caused 
the  unhappy  young  princes  whose  claims  were  between  him 
and  the  throne,  to  be  confined  in  the  Tower,  a  famous  castle 
and  prison  on  the  banks  of  the  Thames  in  the  lower  part  of 
London.  He  then  sent  orders  to  the  Constable  of  the  Tower, 
to  put  his  innocent  and  helpless  victims  to  death.  The  offi- 
cer declined  performing'  so  infamous  an  act.  He  then  order- 
24 


278  YOUNG    CHRISiTIAN. 


Murder  of  the  boys.  Analysis  of  the  story. 

ed  the  Constable  to  give  up,  for  one  night,  the  command  of 
the  Tower  to  another  man.  He  did  so,  and  the  Duke  sent 
Sir  James  Tj^-rel,  who  promised  to  see  that  his  cruel  orders 
were  executed.  But  even  T^a-rel  was  not  savage  enough  to 
execute  them  with  his  own  hand.  He  had  not  the  hardihood 
even  to  look  on  while  it  was  done.  He  accordingly  employ- 
ed three  ruffians,  whose  names  were  Slater,  Dighton  and 
Forrest,  who  came  in  the  night  time,  to  the  door  of  the 
Chamber  in  the  Tower  where  "the  poor  boj's  were  confined. 
The  murderers  found  them  sleeping  quietl}'  in  their  beds. 
They  killed  them  hy  suffocating  them  with  the  bolster  and 
pillows,  and  then  showed  the  dead  bodies  to  Tyrrel  that  he 
might  assure  Richard  that  they  were  no  more.  The  ambi- 
tious and  cruel  Duke  became,  by  these  means,  Richard  HL 
King  of  England. 

Now  in  reviewing  this  story,  and  a  hundred  others  might 
have  easily  been  found,  which  would  have  answered  the 
purposes  of  this  illustration  just  as  well,  we  see  that  the 
guilt  which  it  discloses,  may  be  easily  analyzed  into  three 
distinct  portions.  I  mean  they  are  distinct  for  all  popular 
and  practical  purposes.  A  nice  metaphysical  investigation 
may  or  may  not,  I  shall  not  here  consider  which,  reduce  them 
again  to  the  same. 

1.  The  external  acts.  I  mean  the  rushing  in  of  armed 
men  at  the  table, — the  wounding  of  Lord  Stanle}', — the  be- 
heading of  Lord  Hastings, — the  reading  of  the  false  pro- 
clamation,— and  the  murder  of  the  children  in  their  bed. 
These  deeds  were  not  performed  by  Richard  himself  He 
hired  others  to  perpetrate  these  crimes,  and  he  had  not  him- 
self, directly,  any  thing  to  do  with  them.  It  may  be  diffi- 
cult to  find  in  the  Vv^hole  story  any  one  external  act  which 
Richard  did,  which  was  wrong. 

2.  The  internal  acts  or  determinations  of  mind.  That 
is  the  'plans  which  Richard  formed  and  the  wicked  resolutions 
which  he  cam©  to.  He  must  for  example  at  one  time  have 
hesitated  whether  he  should  have  Hastings  murdered  or  not. 
He  weighed  the  difficulties  and  dangers,  on  the  one  side,  and 
the  advantages  to  his  cause  on  the  other,  and  at  last  he 
resolved  to  do  it.  This  was  a  mental  act.  In  the  same  man- 
ner the  determination  to  have  the  princes  murdered  was  an 
act  of  his  mind.  It  was  savage  and  abominable  in  the  ex- 
treme, but  what  I  wish  to  have  particularly  noticed  in  it,  is, 
that  it  was  a  voluntary  mental  act.     He  deliberated  about 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  279 

Richard's  wicked  character.  Sense  in  which  character  is  voluntary. 

and  then  he  vuluntarily  resolved  upon  it.  His  whole  con- 
duct throughout  this  business  is  a  series  of  most  wicked  men- 
tal acts,  which  he  deliberately  performed,  and  for  which  he 
was  guilty,  though  he  contrived  to  put  off  the  external  deeds 
of  violence  to  the  hands  of  others. 

3.  Tke  ambitious  and  cruel  Mart  ^uhich  instigated  thes^e 
'ruts.  Washington  would  not  have  done  such  things.  King 
Alfred  would  not  have  done  them.  No.  Richard  had,  by 
a  distinction  which,  for  all  the  practical  purposes  of  life,  will 
always  be  made,  a  savage  and  an  unprincipled  character, 
without  which  he  would  not  have  done  such  things.  Anoth- 
er man  when  hesitating  whether  to  murder  two  innocent 
boys  in  order  to  prepare  a  way  for  himself  to  a  throne,  would 
have  found  principles  of  com}3assion  and  of  justice,  coming 
up,  he  knows  not  how  or  whither, — but  still  coming  up  to 
■arrest  his  hand.  Richard  had  nothing  of  this  sort.  He  was 
ambitious  ^nd  sanguinary,  and  unrelenting  in  character  as 
well  as  in  conduct  Before  he  performed  any  of  these  men- 
tals acts,  i.  e.  come  to  those  wicked  determinations,  named 
under  the  second  head,  he  had  a  heart  which  fitted  him  ex- 
actly for  them. 

It  is  evident  too,  and  this  is  a  ix)int  of  the  greatest  impor- 
tance, that  this  cruel  and  ambitious  disposition,  which  was 
the  origin  of  all  his  wicked  plans,  is  not  voluntary  m  the 
same  sense  as  the  plans  themselves  are.  In  regard  to  his 
positive  determinations  to  have  the  children  murdered,  for 
example,  he  deliberated,  and  then  voluntarily  decided  upon 
it.  But  who  supposes  that  he  ever  deliberated  while  he  was 
carrying  forward  his  schemes,  whether  he  would  be  a  cruel, 
or  a  merciful  man,  and  decided  upon  the  former  ?  When  he 
awoke  each  morning,  he  undoubtedly  thought  about  the 
coming  day,  and  formed  his  designs.  He  said  to  himself, 
■"  I  will  do  this,  or  I  will  stop  that.  I  will  have  this 
man  killed  to-day,  or  I  will  banish  that  man."  But  who 
imagines  that  every  morning  he  considered  and  decided 
whether  he  should  be  virtuous  or  vicious  that  day  in 
heart  1  Who  can  suppose  that  he  formed  such  resolutions 
as  these  1  "I  wull  be  a  cruel  man  to-day.  I  will  have 
no  principle  and  no  compassion  for  others,  but  will  delight 
onl}^  in  my  own  ambition.""  No.  He  was  cruel  and  am- 
bitious, and  sanguinary  Avithout  deterininmg  to  be  so,  for  the 
question,  what  general  character  he  should  cherish,  probably 
never  came  up.  All  that  he  deliberated  and  decided  upon, 
ijuquestionablj  was,  by  what  specific  plans  he  should  gratify 


2b0  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

DistJnclion  between  character  and  conduct.  Importance  of  it. 

the  impulses  of  his  wicked  heart.  He  detennined  upon  these 
'plans,  but  he  did  not  determnie  upon  the  impulses.  He 
would  sometimes  resolve  lo  pLm  the  destruction  of  an  ene- 
my, or  to  take  certain  steps  which  should  lead  him  to  the 
throne,  but  he  never  said  to  himself,  "  Now  I  will  awaken 
in  myself  an  impulse  of  cruelty.  Now  I  will  call  up  into 
my  heart  ungovernable  ambition  and  love  of  power."  No. 
These  feelings  reigned  in  his  heart  from  day  to  day  without 
miy  direct  ettbrt  on  his  part  to  keep  them  there.  How  they 
came,  and  why  they  remained,  ii  is  not  my  present  purpose 
to  inquire.  All  I  mean  here  to  insist  upon  is,  that  they  are 
not,  like  the  plans  of  iniquity  he  formed,  the  result  of  direct 
choice  and  determination,  and  consequently,  not  voluntary 
in  the  same  sense  in  which  these  plans  themselves  are  the 
result  of  direct  volition. 

It  may  be  said  that  this  wicked  state  of  heart  was  the  re- 
sult of  previous  bad  conduct  which  had  formed  a  habit  of 
sin,  and  perhaps  it  was.  I  am  not  tiying  to  account  for  it, 
but  only  to  bring  it  to  view.  I  am  simply  endeavoring  to 
shew  there  is,  independently  of  the  conduct,  whether  exter- 
nal or  internal  acts  are  meant  by  that  term,  a  state  of  heart 
from  which  that  conduct  flows. 

But  is  there  any  practical  advantage,  it  may  be  asked,  in 
drawing  this  distinction  between  the  heart  and  the  conduct? 
There  is  a  great  practical  advantage,  otherwise  I  should  by 
no  means  have  taken  so  much  pains  to  exhibit  it,  for  although 
the  intellectual  effort  which  is  necessarj^  on  the  part  of  the 
reader  in  going  into  such  a  discussion  is  of  great  advantage, 
I  should  not  have  entered  upon  it  with  that  object  alone.  I 
design  to  introduce  nothing  into  this  book  but  what  will  be 
of  practical  utility. 

It  is  then  practically  important  that  we  should  all  under- 
stand, not  only  that  our  conduct,  by  which  I  mean  our  acts, 
whether  internal  or  external,  is  wrong ;  but  nlso  that  we 
have  within  us  evil  hearts,  inclining  us  to  go  astray,  and 
that  this  evil  heart  itself  is  distinct  from  the  going  astray 
which  results  from  it.  A  clear  conception  of  this  is  the 
only  safeguard  against  that  self-sufficiency  which  is  de- 
structive of  all  religious  progress.  "Theheirt,"  says  the 
Scriptures,  "  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and  desperately 
wicked  !"  The  power  which  created  it,  alone  can  change 
its  tendencies,  so  as  to  m;rke  it  as  easy  and  as  natural  for  us 
to  do  right  as  it  is  uow  to  do  wrong.     To   this  power  we 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  281 

Moral  obligation.  Ways  of  influencing  the  character. 

must  look.  We  must  look  to  God  too,  with  a  feeling-  of 
distrust  of  ourselves,  and  a  conviction  that  help  can  come 
only  from  hmi.  "  Oh  wretched  man  that  I  am,  who  shall 
deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death."  Yes,  free  as  man 
is,  and  fully  and  entirely  accountable  as  he  is  for  all  his 
conduct,  there  is  a  sense  in  which  he  is  a  miserable  slave  to 
sin,  in  wretched  bondage  to  a  tyrant,  from  whose  chains  no 
struggles  of  his  own  will  ever  set  him  free.  When  he  re- 
alizes this,  and  feels  humbled  and  powerless,  and  utterly  de- 
pendant upon  divine  grace,  then  God  is  ready  to  come  into 
his  soul,  to  purify  and  to  save  him. 

Such  considerations  as  these,  and  many  others  which 
might  be  introduced  if  necessary,  plainly  show  that  man's 
■moral  feelings  are  far  less  under  his  direct  control,  than  his 
uitellectual  or  his  hodily  powers.  He  may  try  to  lift  a 
weight, — he  may  try  to  run,  to  think,  or  to  understand, — and 
he  will  probably  succeed ;  but  it  is  hard  to  love,  or  to  hate,  by 
merely  trying  to.  But  after  stating  thus  and  illustrating  this 
principle, — there  is  one  sentence  which  I  ought  to  write  in 
capitals,  and  express  with  the  strongest  emphasis  in  my 
power.  T'he  heart  is  not  independent  of  oiir  control  to  such 
a  degree  as  to  free  us  from  moral  obligation  and  accownta- 
hility.  We  are  most  unquestionably /ree  in  the  exercise  of 
every  good,  and  of  every  evil  feeling  of  the  heart,  and  we 
are  plainly  accountable  for  them  most  fully,  though  we  may 
not  have  exerted  a  direct  determination  or  volition,  to  bring 
them  into  being. 

But  it  is  not  my  intention  here  to  go  metaphysically  into 
the  incomprehensible  subject  of  the  nature  of  moral  agency. 
My  design  is  only  to  show  to  Christians,  that  the  feelings  of 
penitence  for  sin,  and  ardent  love  to  the  Saviour,  are  not 
feelings  which  they  are  to  bring  to  their  hearts  by  struggling 
directlij  to  introduce  them.  You  cannot  be  penitent  by  sim- 
ply trying  to  be  penitent.  You  cannot  hate  sin,  or  love  God 
more  sincerely  than  you  do,  by  simply  trying  to  feel  thus. 
The  heart  is  to  be  moulded  and  guided  in  other  ways. 

Some  of  these  ways,  by  which  the  heart  is  to  be  led  more 
and  more  to  God,  I  shall  describe. 

1 .  By  acquiring  true  knowledge.  If  you  are  a  Christian 
at  all,  your  piety  will  be  increased  and  strengthened  by  bring- 
ing often  before  your  mind  those  truths  which  shew  the  ne- 
cessity of  piety.  Instead  of  struggling  directly  to  bring 
penitence  to  your  heart,  by  an  effort  of  the  will, — spend  a 
*24 


282  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN, 

Effect  of  Christian  knowledge.  Tke  nioiiier.  'I'he  child. 

part  of  jour  little  season  of  retirement  in  reflecting  on 
the  consequences  of  sin.  Look  ai-ound  you  and  see  how 
many  families  it  has  made  miserable, — how  many  hearts  it 
has  desolated.  Think  of  the  power  it  ha?  had  m  ruining 
the  world  in  which  we  live,  and  how  dreadful  would  be  its 
ravages  if  God  should  permit  it  to  have  its  way  among  all 
his  creatures.  Reflect  how  it  has  destroyed  your  own  peace 
of  mind — injured  3"our  usefulness,  brought  a  stain  upon  the 
Christian  name.  Reflect  upon  such  subjects  as  these  so  as 
to  increase  the  vividness  of  your  knowledge, — and  though 
you  make  no  effort  to  feel  penitence, — even  if  you  do  not 
think  of  penitence  at  all,  it  will  rise  in  your  heart  if  there  is 
any  grace  there.  You  cannot  look  upon  the  consequences 
of  sin  without  repenting  that  j'ou  have  ever  assisted  to  pro- 
cure them.  Peter  did  not  repent  of  his  treachery  by  trying 
10  feel  sorry.  The  Lord  turned  and  looked  upon  Peter.  I'hat 
look  brought  with  it  recollections.  He  saw  clearly  his  rela- 
tion to  his  Saviour,  and  the  ingratitude  of  his  denial. 

It  is  so  with  all  the  other  emotions  of  piety.  You  will 
not  succeed  in  loving  God  supremelj^  by  simply  making  the 
efi^ort  to  do  so.  Look  at  his  goodness  and  mercy  to  you.  See 
it  in  the  thousand  forms  in  which  it  shines  upon  you.  Do 
not  dwell  upon  it  in  generals  but  come  to  minute  particulars^ 
and  whether  old  or  young,  and  whatever  may  be  the 
circumstances  of  your  lives,  reflect  carefully  upon  God's  kind 
dealings  with  you.  Are  you  a  mother? — as  vou  hold  yo\iY 
infant  upon  your  knee — or  obseiTe  its  playfuf  brothers  and 
sisters  in  health  and  happiness  around  you,  consider  a  mo- 
ment by  whose  goodness  they  were  given  to  you,  and  by 
whose  mercy  they  are  daily  spared.  Are  you  a  child  ? — look 
upon  the  comforts  and  privileges,  and  the  sources  of  happi- 
ness which  God  has  given  you, — and  while  you  view  them, 
remember  that  every  week  there  are  muhitudes  of  children 
around  you  suflfering  from  cold, — from  hunger, — from  neg- 
lect— or  who  are  summoned  to  an  early  grave.  I  have  stood 
at  the  bedside  of  a  child  who  was,  a  fortnight  before,  in  her 
class  at  the  Sabbath  school, — and  seen  her  sink  from  day  to 
day  unHer  the  grasp  of  sickness  and  pain,  until  her  reason 
failed,  and  her  strength  was  gone,  and  at  last  she  slumbered 
in  death.  A  few  days  after  she  was  deposited,  in  the  depth 
of  winter,  in  her  cold  grave.  Blustering  storms  and  wintry 
tempests  do  not  indeed  disturb  the  repose  of  the  tomb,  but 
when  you  are  sitting  in  health  and  happiness  at  your  own 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  28o 

Cratilude.      Christian  aciion.      Why  Howard  became  inl  rested  lor  prisoners. 

cheerful  fireside, — and  hear  the  howhng  winds  which  sweep 
around  you, — or  in  a  more  genial  season  feel  the  warm  breath 
of  spring  upon  your  healthful  cheek, — can  you  think  of  the 
thousands  cases  like  the  one  I  have  alluded  to  and  not  feel 
grateful  to  your  kind  protector.  If  your  heart  is  not  entirely 
unrenewed,  (and  I  am  speaking  now  to  Christians,)  these  afi'ec- 
tions  will  be  warmly  awakened  while  you  reflect  upon  God's 
goodness,  and  thus  learn  how  much  you  are  indebted  to  him. 

It  is  thus  with  other  feelings,  they  are  to  come  to  the  heart 
not  by  the  direct  effort  to  bring  them  there,  but  by  bringing 
to  view  the  truths  which  are  calculated  to  awaken  them. 
If  your  heart  is  right  towards  God  m  any  degree,  the  pre- 
sentation of  these  truths  will  aw^aken  penitence  and  love, — 
and  the  more  knowledge  we  acquire  in  regard  to  our  relations 
to  our  Maker,  and  his  dealings  with  us,  the  more  rapid  will 
be  our  growth  in  grace. 

2.  The  second  means  of  growing  in  grace  is  Christian 
action.  Faith  will  not  only  show  itself  by  works,  but  works 
will  increase  faith.  Let  a  man  make  an  effort  to  relieve  a 
sufferer,  and  he  becomes  more  and  more  interested  for  him. 
He  first  sends  him  a  little  food  or  a  little  fire  when  he  is  sick 
and  he  finds  that  this  does  good.  It  relieves  the  pressure, 
and  brings  cheering  and  encouragement  to  the  family,  before 
iust  ready  to  despair.  The  benefactor  then,  becoming  more 
interested  in  the  case,  sends  a  physician,  and  when  the  pa- 
tient is  cured,  he  procures  business  for  him,  and  goes  on  from 
step  to  step,  until  perhaps  at  last  he  feels  a  greater  interest  in 
that  one  case,  than  in  all  the  suffering  poor  of  the  town  be- 
side. It  all  began  by  his  simply  sending  a  little  wood,  which 
was,  perhaps,  almost  accidental,  or  at  least  prompted  by  a 
very  benevolent  feeling.  This  feeling  has,  however,  increas- 
ed to  a  strong  and  steady  principle;  and  to  what  is  its  increase 
owing  ? — simply  to  his  beneroleyit  effort. 

I  have  already  once  or  twice  alluded  to  the  benevolent 
Howard  who  went  through  Europe  visiting  the  prisons,  that 
he  might  learn  the  condition  of  their  unhappy  tenants,  and 
relieve  their  cruel  sufferings.  And  how  was  it  that  he  be- 
came so  much  interested  in  prisoners?  It  devolved  upon  him 
in  the  discharge  of  some  public  duty,  in  his  own  county  in 
England,  to  do  something  for  the  relief  of  prisoners  there, — 
and  the  moment  he  began  to  do  someth'uig  for  the  prisoner, 
that  moment  he  began  to  love  them ; — and  the  more  he  did 
for  them,  the  more  strongly  he  was  attached  to  their  cause. 


284  YouKg  CHkisTiAN. 

Paul.  Depeudence  upon  the  Holy  Spirit. 

The  Apostle  Paul  is  one  of  the  most  striking  examples  of 
the  power  of  Christian  eitbrt  to  promote  Christian  love.  He 
gave  himself  wholly  to  his  work,  and  the  consequence  was  he 
became  completely  identilied  with  it.  He  loved  it  better  than 
he  did  life,  and  the  strongest  ex})ressions  of  attachment  to 
the  Saviour  which  the  Bible  contains,  are  to  be  found  m  the 
language  he  uses  when  he  was  drawing  towards  the  close  of 
his  labors  upon  earth, 

If  we  then  would  grow  in  attachment  to  our  Saviour,  we 
must  do  something  for  him.  But  notice  it  is  not  the  mere 
external  act  which  will  promote  your  growth  in  piety — the 
act  must  be  performed,  in  some  degree  at  least,  from  Chris- 
tian principle.  You  can  all  put  this  method  immediately 
to  the  test.  Think  of  something  which  you  can  do,  b\-  do- 
ing which  you  will  be  co-operating  w^th  God.  The  design 
of  God  is  to  relieve  suffering  and  promote  happiness  where- 
ever  there  is  opportunity.  And  as  sin  is  the  greatest  obsta- 
cle in  the  way,  he  directs  his  first  and  chief  efforts  to  the  re- 
moval of  sin.  Now  endeavor  to  find  something  which  3'ou 
can  do,  by  which  sin  can  be  removed,  or  sutfering  alleviated, 
and  go-  foitli  to  the  work  feeling  that  you  are  co-operating 
with  3^our  Saviour  in  his  great  and  benevolent  plans.  Per- 
haps you  will  find  an  opportunity  in  your  own  family, — or 
perhaps  in  your  neighborhood  ; — but  wherever  it  is  done,  if 
you  go  forth  to  the  duty  under  the  influence  of  attachment 
to  the  Savioi*!!-,  and  love  to  men,  these  feelings  will  certainly 
be  increased  by  the  effort.  You  wnll  feel  while  3'ou  do  it 
that  you  are  a  co-worker  with  God, — that  you  are  as  it  were 
making  common  cause  with  Hin^  and  the  bonds  by  which 
you  were  before  only  loosely  bound  to  him  are  streno'then- 
ed. 

Go  forward  then  efficiently  in  doing  good;  set  your  hearts 
upon  it.  If  you  feel  that  you  have  but  little  love  to  God, 
bring  that  little  into  exercise  and  it  will  grow. 

3.  The  last  of  the  meanings  of  growing  in  grace 
which  I  shall  now  mention  is  a  humble  sense  of  dependence 
on  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit :  and  sincere  prayer  for 
those  influenced  I  freely  acknowledge  the  difficulty  which 
this  subject  presents.  If  we  attempt  to  form  any  theory  by 
which  we  can  clearly  comprehend,  how  accoantability  can 
rest  upon  a  soul,  which  is  still  dependent  upon  a  higher 
power  for  all  that  is  good, — we  shall  only  plunge  ourselves 
in  endless  perplexity.     We  know  that  we  are  accountable 


PERSONAL     IMPROVEMENT.  235 

An  evil  heart.  Divine  iuflueuce  necessary. 

for  all  our  feelings  us  well  as  for  our  words  and  deeds,  and  at 
the  same  time  we  know  that  those  feelings  within  us  which 
reason  and  conscience  condemn  will  come,  unless  the  Holy 
Spu'it  saves  us  from  being  their  prey.  How  emphatically 
does  the  language  of  Paul  describe  this  our  melancholy  sub- 
jection to  this  law  of  sin. 

"  For  I  know  that  in  me,  (that  is,  in  my  flesh)  dwelleth  no 
good  thing  :  for  to  will  is  present  with  me ;  but  how  to  per- 
form that  which  is  good,  I  find  not.  For  the  good  that  I 
would,  I  do  not :  but  the  evil  which  I  would  not,  that'  I  do. 
Now  if  I  do  that  I  would  not,  it  is  no  more  I  that  do  it,  but 
sin  that  dwelleth  in  me.  I  find  then  a  law,  that  when  I 
would  do  good,  evil  is  present  with  me.  For  I  delight  in 
the  law  of  God,  after  the  inward  man.  But  I  see  another 
law  in  my  members  warring  against  the  law  of  my  mind, 
and  bringing  me  into  captivity  to  the  law  of  sin  which  is  in 
my  members.  O  wretched  man  that  I  am !  who  shall  deliv- 
er me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ?" 

The  conclusion  to  which  he  comes  in  the  next  verse,  is  the 
right  one,  that  God  will  deliver  us  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
Lord.  We  must  feel  then  humbly  dependent  on  an  influ- 
ence from  above.  Let  us  come  daily  to  our  Father  in  heav- 
en praying  him  to  draw  us  to  the  Saviour- — we  shall  not 
come,  unless  he  draws  us.  Let  us  feel  dependent  every  day 
for  a  fresh  supply  of  divine  grace  to  keep  these  hearts  in  a 
proper  frame.  It  is  not  enough  to  express  this  feeling  in  our 
morning  prayer.  We  must  carry  it  with  us  into  all  the  cir- 
cumstefnces  of  the  day.  When  we  are  going  into  tempta- 
tion we  must  say  "  Lord  hold  thou  me  up  and  then  I  shall  be 
safe  :"  and  we  must  say  it  with  a  feeling  of  entire  moral  de- 
pendence   on  God. 

We  are  all  very  much  in  danger  of  blunting  our  sense  of 
our  moral  dependence  on  God  for  fear  of  impairing  our  sense 
of  guilt.  I  do  not  attempt  to  present  any  theory  by  which 
the  two  may  be  shown  to  be  compatible  with  each  other.  We 
cannot  easily  understand  the  theory,  but  we  feel  and  know 
that  both  are  true.  We  all  know  that  we  are  guilty  for  liv- 
ing in  sin; — and  we  feel  and  know  that  our  hearts  do  not 
change  simply  by  our  determining  that  they  shall.  Since 
then  the  two  truths  are  clear,  let  us  cordially  admit  them 
both.  Let  us  in  the  spirit  of  humility,  and  cordial  trust 
in  God's  word,  believe  our  maker  when  he  says,  that 
he   has  mercy  on  whom  he  will  have  mercy,  and  whom 


286 


YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


lutellectual  improvement.  A  finished  education. 


he  will  he  hardeneth.  Let  us  believe  this  cordially, 
however  difficult  it  may  be  to  understand  what  can,  ni 
such  a  case,  be  the  guilt  of  the  hardened  one: — and 
applyijig  the  declaration  to  our  own  case,  let  us  come  before 
him  praying-  that  he  will  turn  our  hearts  to  holiness, — and  at 
the  same  tune  let  lis  see  and  feel  our  guilt  in  neglecting  duty 
and  disobeying  Uod  as  we  do. 

This  feeling  of  entire  dependence  on  the  Holy  Spirit  for 
moral  progress  is  the  safest  and  happiest  feeling  which  the 
Christian  can  cherish.  Such  weakness  and  helplessness  as 
ours,  loves  protection,  and  if  we  can  cordially  make  up  our 
minds  that  there  is  a  ditficulty  in  this  subject  that  no  human 
powers  can  surmount,  we  can  feel  fully  our  own  moral  respon- 
sibilitj^  and  at  the  same  time  feel  that  our  dearest  moral  in- 
terests are  in  God's  care.  This  feeling  is  committing  our 
souls  to  our  Saviour's  keeping  and  care.  Were  our  hearts 
entirely  under  our  own  direct  control,  we  and  we  only  could 
be  their  keepers;  but  if  we  have  given  our  hearts  to  him, 
God  has  promised  to  keep  us  by  his  power.  He  is  able  to 
keep  us.  He  has  control,  after  all,  in  our  hearts  and  if  we 
are  willing  to  put  our  trust  in  him,  he  will  keep  us  from  fall- 
ing, and  present  us  at  last  faultless  before  the  throne  of  his 
glory  with  exceeding  joy. 

2.     Intellectual  Improvement. 

It  may  perhaps  seem  strange  that  I  should  discuss  the 
subject  of  intellectual  progress  in  a  book  devoted  to  pn  ex- 
planation and  an  enforcement  of  the  principles  of  piet3^  I 
should  not  do  this,  were  I  not  firmly  persuaded  that  a  regu- 
lar and  uninterrupted  intellectual  progress  is  a  duty  which 
is  peculiarly  binding  upon  the  Christian.  Let  the  reader  re- 
flect a  moment  that  those  intellectual  powers  which  God- 
has  given  him,  are  intended  to  exist  forever,  and  that  if  he 
shall  be  prepared  at  death  to  enter  the  world  of  happiness, 
they  will  go  on  expanding  forever,  adding  not  o\^\y  to  his 
means,  but  to  his  capacities  of  enjoyment. 

The  great  mass  of  mankind  consider  the  intellectual  pow- 
ers as  susceptible  of  a  certain  degree  of  developeinent  in  child- 
hood, to  prepare  the  individual  for  the  active  duties  of  life. 
This  degree  of  prot^ress  they  su])pose  to  be  made  befoiv  the 
age  of  twenty  is  attained,  and  hence  they  talk  of  an  educa- 
tion being  finished !    Now  if  a  parent  wishes  to  convey  the 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  287 

Object  of  education.  1.  To  strengthen  the  powers. 

idea  that  his  daaghler  has  closed  her  studies  at  school,  or 
that  his  son  has  finished  his  preparatory  professional  studies, 
and  is  ready  to  commence  practice,  there  is  perhaps  no  strong 
objection  to  his  using  the  common  phrase  that  the  education 
is  finished ;  but  m  any  general  or  proper  use  of  language 
there  is  no  such  thing  as  a  finished  education.  The  most 
successful  scholar  that  ever  left  a  school,  or  took  his  honora- 
ry degree  at  college,  never  arrived  at  a  good  place  to  stop  in 
his  intellectual  course.  In  fact  the  farther  he  goes  the  more 
desirous  will  he  feel  to  go  on ;  and  if  you  wish  to  find  an  in- 
stance of  the  greatest  eagerness  and  interest  with  which  the 
pursuit  of  knowledge  is  prosecuted,  you  will  find  it  undoubt- 
edly in  the  case  of  the  most  accomplished  and  thorough 
scholar  which  the  country  can  furnish,  who  has  spent  a  long- 
life  in  study,  and  who  finds  that  the  farther  he  goes,  the 
more  and  more  widely  does  the  boundless  field  of  intelli- 
gence open  before  him. 

Give  up  then  at  once  all  idea  of  finishing  your  education. 
The  sole  object  of  the  course  of  discipline  at  any  literary  in- 
stitution in  our  land  is  not  to  finish,  but  just  to  show  you 
how  to  begin  : — to  give  you  an  impulse  and  a  direction  up- 
on that  course,  which  you  ought  to  pursue  with  unabated 
and  uninterrupted  ardor  as  long  as  you  live. 

It  is  unquestionably  true  that  every  person,  whatever  are 
his  circumstances  or  condition  in  life,  ought  at  all  times  to 
be  making  some  steady  efforts,  to  enlarge  his  stock  of  knowl- 
edge, to  increase  his  mental  powers,  and  thus  to  expand 
the  field  of  his  intellectual  vision.  I  suppose  most  of  my 
readers  are  convinced  of  this,  and  are  desirous,  if  the  way 
can  only  be  distinctly  pointed  out,  of  making  such  efforts. 
In  fact  no  inquiry  is  more  frequently  made  hj  intelligent 
young  persons  than  this.  "What  course  of  reading  stfall  I 
pursue  ?  What  book  shall  I  select,  and  what  plan  in  read- 
ing them  shall  I  adopt  ?  "  These  inquiries  I  now  propose 
to  answer. 

The  object  of  study  are  of  several  kinds :  some  of  the  most 
important  I  shall  enumerate. 

i.  To  increase  our  intellectual  powers.  Every  one 
knows  that  there  is  a  difference  of  ability  in  different  minds, 
but  it  is  not  so  distinctly  understood  that  every  one's  abilities 
may  be  increased  or  strengthened  by  a  kind  of  culture  adapt- 
ed expressly  to  this  purpose ; — I  mean  a  culture  which  is 
intended  not  to  add  to  the  stock  of  knowledge,  but  only  to 


288  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Roijiiison  Crusoe's  supposed  experiiiitiU  wilh  Friday. 

increase  intellectual  power.  Suppose  for  example  that 
when  Robuison  Crusoe  on  his  desolate  island,  had  first  found 
Friday  the  savage,  he  had  said  to  hniiself,  as  follows  : 

"  This  man  looks  wild  and  barbarous  enough.  He  is  to 
stay  with  me  and  help  me  in  my  various  plans,  but  he  could 
help  me  much  more  elfectualh^  if  he  was  more  of  an  intel- 
lectual being  and  less  of  a  mere  animal.  Now  I  can  in- 
crease his  nitellectual  power  by  culture,  and  I  will.  But 
what  shall  I  teach  him  ?" 

On  reflecting  a  little  farther  upon  the  subject,  he  would  say 
to  himself  as  follows. 

"  I  must  not  alwaj's  teach  him  things  necessary  for  him 
to  know  in  order  to  assist  me  m  my  w^ork,  but  I  must  try  to 
teach  him  to  think  for  himself.  Then  he  will  be  far  more 
valuable  as  a  servant,  than  if  he  has  to  depend  upon  me  for 
every  thing  he  does." 

Accord uigly  some  evening  when  the  two,  master  and  man, 
have  finished  the  labors  of  the  day,  Robinson  is  walking 
upon  the  sandy  beach  with  the  wild  savage  by  his  side,  and 
he  concludes  to  give  him  his  first  lesson  in  mathematics. 
He  picks  up  a  slender  and  pointed  shell,  and  with  it  draws 
carefully  a  circle  upon  the  sand. 

"  What  is  that  ?"    says  Friday. 

"  It  is  what  we  call  a  circle,  says  Robinson,  "  I  want  you 
now  to  come  and  stand  here,  and  attentivelj'  consider  what 
I  am  going  to  tell  yo\x  about  it." 

Now  Friday  has,  we  will  suppose,  never  given  his  serious 
attention  to  any  thing,  or  rather  he  has  never  made  a  serious 
mental  effort  upon  any  subject,  for  five  minutes  at  a  time,  in 
his  life.  The  simplest  mathematical  principle  is  a  complete 
labyrinth  of  perplexity  to  him.  He  comes  up  and  looks  at 
the  smooth  and  beautiful  curve  which  his  master  has  drawn 
in  the  sand  with  a  gaze  of  stupid  amazement. 

"  Now  listen  carefully  to  what  I  say,"  says  Robinson, 
"  and  see  if  you  can  understand  it.  Do  you  see  this  little 
point  I  make  in  the  middle  of  the  circle  ?" 

Friday  says  he  does,  and  wonders  what  is  to  come  from 
the  magic  character  which  he  sees  before  him. 

"  This,"  continues  Robinson,  "  is  a  circle  and  that  point 
is  the  centre.  Now  if  I  draw  lines  from  the  centre  in  any 
direction  to  the  outside,  these  lines  will  all  bo  equal." 

So  saying  he  draws  several  lines.  He  sets  Friday  to  mea- 
suring them.  Friday  sees  that  they  are  equal  and  is  pleas- 
ed, from  two  distinct  causes:  one  that  he  has  successfully 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  289 

Robinson  Crusoe  and  Friday.  Conic  Sections. 

exercised  his  thinking  powers,  and  the  other  that  he  has 
learned  something  whicli  he  never  knew  before. 

I  wish  now  that  the  reader  would  understand  that  Robni- 
son  does  not  take  this  course  with  Friday  because  he  wish- 
es him  to  understand  the  nature  of  the  circle:  Suppose  we 
were  to  say  to  him,  "  Why  did  you  take  such  a  course  as 
that  with  your  savage?  You  can  teach  him  much  more 
useful  things  than  the  properties  of  the  circle.  What  good 
will  it  do  him  to  know  how  to  make  circles  ?  Do  you  ex- 
pect him  to  draw  geometrical  diagrams  for  you,  or  to  cal- 
culate and  project  eclipses  ?  " 

"  No,"  Robinson  would  reply.  "  I  do  not  care  about  Fri- 
day's understanding  the  properties  of  the  circle.  But  I  do 
want  him  to  be  a  thinking  being,  and  if  I  can  induce  him 
to  think  half  an  hour  steadily  and  carefully,  it  is  of  no 
consequence  upon  what  subject  his  thoughts  are  employed. 
I  chose  the  circle  because  that  seemed  easy  and  distinct, — 
suitable  for  the  first  lesson.  I  do  not  know  that  he  will  ever 
have  occasion  for  the  fact  that  the  radii  of  a  circle  are 
equal,  as  long  as  he  shall  live, — but  he  will  have  occasion 
for  the  power  of  'patient  attention  and  thought,  which  he  ac- 
quired while  attempting  to  understand  that  subject." 

This  would  unquestionably  be  sound  philosophy,  and  a 
savage  who  should  study  such  a  lesson  on  the  beach  of  his 
own  wild  island,  would  forever  after  be  less  of  a  savage  than 
before.  The  effect  upon  his  mental  powers,  of  one  single  ef- 
fort like  that,  would  last,  and  a  series  of  such  efforts  would 
transform  him  from  a  fierce  and  ungovernable  but  stupid  an- 
imal, to  a  cultivated  and  intellectual  man. 

Thus  it  is  with  all  education.  One  great  object  is  to  in- 
crease the  powers,  and  this  is  entirely  distinct  from  the  ac- 
quisition of  knowledge.  Scholars  very  often  ask  when  pur- 
suing some  difficult  study,.  "  What  good  will  it  do  me  to  know 
this  ?"  But  that  is  not  the  question.  They  ought  to  ask 
"  What  good  will  it  do  me  to  learn  it  ?  What  effect  upon 
my  habits  of  thinking,  and  upon  my  intellectual  powers 
will  be  produced  by  the  efforts  to  examine  and  to  conquer 
these  difficulties." 

A  very  fine  example  of  this  is  the  study  of  Conic  Sections, 
a  difficult  branch  of  the  course  of  Mathematics  pursued  in 
college ;  a  study  which  from  its  difficulty,  and  its  apparent 
uselessness  is  often  very  unpopular  in  the  class  pursuing  it. 
The  question  is  very  often  asked,  "  What  good  will  it  ever 
25 


290  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Difficult  studies.  Acquisition  of  knowledge. 

do  US  in  after  life  to  understand  all  these  mysteries  of  the 
Parabola,  and  the  Hyperbola,  and  the  Ordinates,  and  Abscis- 
sas, and  Asjmitotes?  "  The  answer  is  that  the  hwicledgc 
of  the  fads  which  you  acquire,  will  probably  do  you  no  good 
whatever.  That  is  not  the  object,  and  every  college  officer 
knows  full  well  that  the  mathematical  principles  which  this 
science  demonstrates,  are  not  brought  into  use  in  after  life,  by 
one  scholar  in  ten.  But  every  college  officer,  and  every  in- 
telligent student  who  will  watch  the  operations  of  his  own 
mind  and  the  influence  which  such  exercises  exert  upon  it, 
knows  equally  well  that  the  study  of  the  higher  Mathematics 
produces  an  effect  in  enlarging  and  disciplining  tht  inicl- 
lectual  poivcrs,  which  the  whole  of  life  will  not  oblite- 
rate. 

Do  not  shrink  then  from  difficult  work  in  your  efibrts  at 
intellectual  nuprovement.  You  ought,  if  you  wish  to  se- 
cure the  greatest  advantage,  to  have  some  difficult  work,  that 
you  may  acquire  habits  of  patient  research,  and  increase 
and  strengthen  j^our  intellectual  powers. 

2.  The  acquisition  ofhi.oivledge.  This  is  another  object  of 
intellectual  effort;  and  a  moment's  reflection  will  convince  any 
one  that  the  acquisition  of  knowledge,  is  the  duty  of  all. 
Sometimes  it  has  been  said  by  an  individual  under  the  influ- 
ence of  a  misguided  interest  in  religious  truth,  that  he  will 
have  nothing  to  do  with  human  learning.  He  will  study 
nothing  but  the  Bible,  and  all  his  leisure  hours  he  will  give 
to  meditation  and  prayer, — and  thus  he  will  devote  his 
whole  time  and  strength  to  the  promotion  of  his  progress  in 
piety.  But  if  there  is  any  thing  most  manifest  in  God's 
intentions  in  regard  to  employment  for  man,  it  is  that  he 
should  spend  a  very  considerable  portion  of  his  time  upon 
earth  in  acquiring  knotvledge  ; — knowledge,  in  all  the  extent 
and  variety  in  which  it  is  offered  to  human  powers.  The 
whole  economy  of  nature  is  such  as  to  allure  man  to  the  in- 
vestigation of  it,  and  the  whole  structure  of  his  mind  is  so 
framed  as  to  qualify  him  exactly  for  the  work.  If  now  a 
pcreon  begins  in  early  life  and  even  as  late  as  twenty,  and 
makes  it  a  part  of  his  constant  aim  to  acquire  knowledge; — 
endeavoring  every  day  to  learn  something  which  he  did  not 
know  before,  or  to  fix  something  in  the  mind  which  was  be- 
fore not  familiar,  he  will  make  an  almost  insensible,  but  a 
most  rapid  and  important  progress.  The  field  of  his  intel- 
lectual vision  will  widen  and  extend  every  year.     His  pow- 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  291 

Skill.  Three  experiments  with  Friday. 

ers  of  mind,  as  well  as  his  attainments  will  be  increased, 
and  as  he  can  see  more  extensively,  so  he  can  act  more  efFec- 
tually  every  month  than  he  could  on  the  preceding.  He 
thus  goes  on  through  life,  growing  in  knowledge  and 
in  intellectual  and  moral  power,  and  if  his  spiritual 
progress  keeps  pace  as  it  ought  to  with  his  intel- 
lectual advancement,  he  is  with  the  divine  assistance 
and  blessing,  exalting  himself  higher  and  higher  in  the 
scale  of  being  and  preparing  himself  for  a  loftier  station  of 
service  before  the  throne  in  the  world  to  come. 

3-  The  acquisition  of  skill  is  a  third  object  of  intellectu- 
al effort.  I  point  out  clearly  and  separately  the  distinct  ob- 
jects which  intellectual  effort  ought  to  have  in  view,  that  my 
readers  may  ascertain  whether  they  are  doing  something  to 
accomplish  them  all,  and  that  in  all  the  particular  plans 
which  they  may  adopt,  they  may  have  constantly  in  mind 
the  purpose  which  is  in  view  in  each,  in  order  the  more  eifec- 
tually  to  secure  it.  I  wish  therefore  that  my  readers  would 
notice  particularly  this  third  head,  for  it  is  one  which  though, 
in  some  respects  quite  as  important  as  either  of  the  others,  is 
iiot  often  very  clearly  pointed  out. 

To  recur  to  my  illustration  of  Robinson  Crusoe  and  his 
man  Friday.  The  conversation  which  I  supposed  to  be  held 
with  him  on  the  subject  of  the  circle,  was  not  merely 
designed  to  give  him  i7iformatio?i,  or  skill,  but  to  discipline 
and  improve  his  intellectual  powers  b}^  the  exercise.  Let  us 
suppose  now  that  the  next  day  Robinson  had  concluded  to 
tell  him  the  story  of  his  own  past  adventures,  and  setting 
down  upon  a  green  bank  by  the  side  of  their  hut,  had  given 
him  an  outline  of  his  early  life  in  England, — of  his  first 
coming  to  sea, — of  his  wanderings  and  adventures  on  the 
great  ocean,  and  of  his  final  shipwreck  on  the  island.  He 
describes  as  well  as  he  can,  the  form  and  appearance  of  the 
great  ship  in  which  he  had  sailed,  its  spacious  decks  and  nu- 
merous company,  and  makes  him  acquainted  with  his  hope 
that  ere  long  a  similar  ship,  coming  from  that  same  native 
land,  will  appear  in  the  horizon  and  come  attracted  by  their 
signals  to  the  island,  and  bear  him  away  to  his  home. 

Now  such  a  conversation  as  this  is  intended  to  give  infor- 
moAion.  It  may  indeed  be  a  useful  discipline  to  Friday's 
powers  to  listen  to  it,  but  that  is  not  its  main  design.  Rob- 
inson's chief  design  is  to  make  his  savage  companion  ac- 
quainted  ivith  facts,  which  it  is  on  many  accounts  important 
that  he  should  know. 


292  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Teaching  him  to  count.  Study  of  Mathematics. 

Now  let  US  take  a  third  case.  My  readers  are  all  doubt- 
less aware  that  savages  can  usually  count  as  far  as  they 
have  fingers  to  illustrate  their  Arithmetic.  Some  tribes  can 
use  both  hands,  counting  as  far  as  ten,  and  when  they  get 
beyond  that  they  hold  up  both  hands,  shake  their  heads,  as 
if  in  perplexity,  and  say  ''great  many, — great  maiiyP  Oth- 
er tribes  can  go  no  farther  than  one  hand,  and  have  no  names 
for  numbering  beyond  five. 

Now  suppose  Robinson  were  to  undertake  to  teach  Friday 
to  count.  He  might  say  to  himself  that  it  would  often  be  a 
great  convenience  to  him,  if  Friday  were  able  to  count,  so  that 
he  might  ascertain  and  describe  to  him  numbers  higher  than 
those  which  he  coald  express  by  his  fingers.  He  according- 
ly commences  the  task,  and  perseveres  day  after  day  in  the 
lesson.  I  sa}^  day  after  day,  for  easy  as  it  maj-  seem  to  us,  it 
is  a  matter  of  no  small  difficulty  to  teach  a  savage  to  count. 
Now  although  there  is  unquestionably  an  important  mental 
discipline  secured  b}^  such  an  effort  on  the  part  of  the  sav- 
age, and  although  the  learning  to  count  is  in  one  sense  the 
acquisition  of  knowledge, — it  is  in  a  much  more  important 
sense  the  acquisition  of  skill.  By  making  the  process  of  count- 
ing familiar,  Friday  is  not  in  so  proper  a  sense  acquiring  a 
knoii'ledge  of  facts,  as  learning  somethmg  to  do.  It  is  of  the 
nature  of  skill,  which  he  is  to  use  in  future  times,  for  the 
benefit  of  himself  and  of  Robinson. 

If  you  call  to  mind  the  various  studies  which  are  urged 
upon  the  attention  of  the  young,  you  will  find  that  skill, 
that  is  learning  to  do  something,  is  very  often  the  object  in 
view.  It  is  so  with  Arithmetic.  In  studying  the  funda- 
mental rules,  the  main  design  it  not  to  bring  in  information 
to  your  minds,  but  to  teach  you  to  do  something.  When 
you  read  History,  yow  are  acquiring  knowledge, — when  you 
study  Rhetoric  or  write  composition  for  practice,  you  are  ac- 
quiring skill.  Now  nil  these  three  objects  in  a  good  scheme 
of  education  are  to  be  kept  constantly  in  view,  and  to  be  reg- 
ularly provided  for.  A  young  man  at  college  for  instance,  will 
study  his  demonstration  in  the  higher  Mathematics  in  the 
morning,  for  the  purpose. of  ?w;?/-oz?i//^-  and  strengthening  his 
powers.  He  will  listen  to  a  chemical  or  philosophical  lecture, 
or  study  botany  in  the  fields  in  the  afternoon,  to  obtam 
knowledge,  and  in  the  evening  he  will  practice  in  his  debat- 
ing society,  to  acquire  skill.  These  three  things  are  distinct 
P.nd  independent,  but   all  equally  important  in  the  business 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  293 

Imperfect  education.  Neglect  of  important  duties. 

of  life.  If  one  is  cultivated  and  the  others  neglected,  the 
man  is  very  poorly  qualified  for  usefulness;  and  yet  nothing 
is  more  common  than  such  half  educated  men. 

I  have  often  known  persons  in  whom  the  first  of  these  ob- 
jects alone  was  secured.  You  will  know  one  who  is  in 
danger  of  such  a  result  in  his  education,  by  his  taking  a 
strong  interest,  if  he  is  in  college  for  example,  in  those  pur- 
suits in  his  class  which  require  more  of  great  but  temporarj^ 
mental  effort,  and  by  his  neglecting  the  equally  important 
parts  of  his  course  which  would  store  his  mind  with  facts. 
He  attracts  the  admiration  of  his  class  by  his  fluent  famili- 
arity with  all  the  mazes  of  the  most  intricate  theorem  or  prob- 
lem, and  he  excites  an  equal  surprise,  by  his  apparent  dull- 
ness at  the  recitation  in  history,  making  as  he  does,  the  most 
ludicrous  blunders,  and  shewing  the  most  lamentable  igno- 
rance of  every  thing  which  is  beyond  the  pale  of  demon- 
stration. When  at  last  he  comes  out  into  the  world  his  mind 
is  acute  and  powerful,  but  he  is  an  entire  stranger  to 
the  scene  in  which  he  is  to  move.  He  can  do  no 
good  because  he  does  not  know  where  his  efforts  are 
to  be  applied.  .He  makes  the  same  blunders  in  real  life, 
that  he  did  in  college,  in  its  history ; — and  is  soon  neglected 
and  forgotten.  He  had  cultivated  simple  poicer,  but  was 
without  information  or  skill.  His  power  was  consequentlj^ 
almost  useless. 

On  the  other  hand,  a  young  man  may  spend  his  whole 
strength  in  simply  obtaining  knowledge,  neglecting  the  culti- 
vation of  mental  power,  or  the  acquisition  of  skill.  He  neg- 
lects his  severer  studies,  and  his  various  opportunities  for 
practice.  "Spherics!"  says  he,  "and  Trigonometrical  for- 
mula! What  good  will  they  ever  do  me  ?  I  am  not  go- 
ing to  be  an  Almanac  maker,  or  to  gain  any  livelihood  hy 
calculating  eclipses."  So  he  reads  history,  and  voj'ages  and 
travelsj  and  devours  every  specimen  of  periodical  literature 
which  finds  its  way  within  college  walls.  He  very  proba- 
bl}^  neglects  those  duties  which,  if  faithfully  performed, 
would  cultivate  the  powers  of  conversation  and  writing  and 
public  speaking,  and  he  comes  out  into  the  world  equally 
celebrated  among  all  who  knew  him,  on  the  one  hand  for  the 
variety  and  extent  of  his  general  knowledge,  and  on  the 
other  for  the  slenderness  of  his  original  mental  power,  and 
his  utter  want  of  any  skill  in  bringing  his  multifarious  ac- 
quisitions to  bear  upon  the  objects  of  life. 
*25 


294  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Inlelleclual  progress  of  a  young  mother. 

Ill  the  same  manner  I  miglit  illustrate  the  excessive  pur- 
suit of  the  last  of  the  objects  I  have  named,  viz,  the  acqui- 
sition of  skill,  but  it  is  unnecessary.  My  readers  will,  I 
think  ail  clearly  see  that  these  objects  are  distinct,  and  that 
all  are  of  the  first  importance  to  every  one.  To  be  most  ex- 
tensively useful,  you  must  have  original  mental  power,  and 
knowledge  of  facts,  and  skill  to  apply  that  knowledge  in  the 
most  effectual  manner. 

The  illustrations  which  I  have  employed  have  referred 
more  directlj)^  to  the  cases  of  young  men  in  a  course  of 
public  education,  but  I  have  not  intended  that  these  princi- 
ples should  be  exclusively  applied  to  them.  Nor  are  they  to 
be  confined  in  their  application  to  the  preparatoiy  stages  of 
education.  Take  for  example  a  young  mother  of  a  family. 
She  ought  at  all  times  to  be  making  daily  intellectual  prog- 
ress, and  this  intellectual  progress  ought  to  be  such  as  to  se- 
cure a  proportional  attention  to  all  the  objects  I  have  named. 
She  ought  to  investigate  something  which  shall  task  her 
powers  to  the  utmost,  so  as  to  secure  discipline  and  imjjrove- 
ment  of  those  powers.  She  ought  also  to  make  regular  and 
systematic  efforts  to  acqv,ire  information  ; — by  reading  and 
by  conversation  enlarging  as  much  as  possible  the  field  of  her 
vision,  so  that  she  can  the  more  fully  understand  the  circum- 
stances in  which  she  is  placed,  and  the  means  of  influence 
and  usefulness  within  her  reach.  She  ought  also  to  adopt 
systematic  plans  for  increasing  her  skill ; — b}'^  learning,  for 
example,  system  in  all  her  affairs — by  studying  improve- 
ments in  the  manner  and  in  which  all  her  duties  are  per- 
formed : — endeavoring  to  become  more  faithful  and  system- 
atic and  regular  in  all  her  employments.  By  this  means  she 
may  acquire  dexterity  in  every  persuit,  an  important  influ- 
ence over  other  minds,  and  especially  a  higher  skill  in  inter- 
esting and  instructing  and  governing  her  children. 

But  I  must  not  go  more  into  detail  in  this  part  of  my 
subject.  The  best  means  of  intellectual  improvement  de- 
mand a  volume  instead  of  a  chapter,  though  a  chapter  is  all 
which  can  be  properly  appropriated  to  it  in  such  a  work  as 
this.  What  I  have  already  said  in  regard  to  the  three  sepa- 
rate and  distinct  objects  in  wew  in  education,  has  been 
chiefly  designed  to  persuade  my  young  readers  to  engage 
cheerfully  and  cordially  in  all  the  pursuits  which  those  who 
are  older  and  wiser  than  they  have  prescribed,  in  the  various 
literary  institutions  with  which  they  are  connected.     1  shall 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT,  295 

Reading-.  System.  Variety. 

with  these  remarks,  leave  the  subject  of  the  pursuit  of 
study  in  Uterarj  seminaries,  and  close  the  chapter  with  a  few 
directions  in  regard  to  such  means  of  improvement  as  may 
be  privately  resorted  to  by  individuals,  in  their  desire  to  im- 
prove. 

I.  Reading.  There  are  several  detached  directions 
which  will  be  of  great  service  to  you  in  your  private  read- 
ing if  they  are  faithfully  followed. 

1,  Read  systematically.  I  mean  by  this,  do  not  take  up 
and  read  any  books  because  they  merely  chance  to  fall  in  your 
way.  You  see  on  a  neighbor's  table  a  book  which  looks  as 
if  it  was  interesting,  as  you  say,  and  you  think  you  should 
like  to  read  it,  You  borrow  it, — carry  it  home, — and  at 
some  convenient  time,  you  begin.  You  soon  however,  either 
from  taking  it  up  at  a  time  when  you  were  interested  in 
something  else,  or  from  being  frequently  interrupted,  or  per- 
haps from  the  character  of  the  book,  you  find  it  rather 
dull,  and  after  wasting  a  few  hours  upon  the  first  fifty  pages, 
you  tumble  over  the  remainder  of  the  leaves,  and  then  send 
the  book  home.  After  a  few  days  more  you  find  some  other 
book  by  a  similar  accident,  and  pursue  the  same  course. 
Such  a  method  of  attempting  to  acquire  knowledge ,  from 
books  will  only  dissipate  the  mind, — destroy  all  habits  of 
accurate  thinking, — and  unfit  you  for  any  intellectual  pro- 
gress. 

But  you  must  not  go  into  the  opposite  extreme  of  draw- 
ing up  for  yourself  a  set  of  rules,  and  a  system  of  reading 
full  enough  to  occupy  you  for  years,  and  then  begin  upon 
that,  with  the  determination  of  confining  yourself,  at  all 
hazards,  rigidly  to  it.  What  I  mean  by  systematic  reading 
is  this. 

Reflect  upon  your  circumstances  and  condition  in  life, 
and  consider  what  sort  of  knowledge  will  most  increase 
your  usefulness  and  happiness.  Then  inquire  of  some 
judicious  friend  for  proper  books.  If  accident  throws  some 
book  in  your  way,  consider  whether  the  subject  upon  which 
it  treats  is  one  which  comes  within  your  plan.  Inquire 
about  it  if  you  cannot  form  an  opinion  yourself,  and  if  you 
conclude  to  read  it,  persevere  and  finish  it. 

Systematic  reading  requires  too,  that  you  should  secure 
variety  in  your  books.  Look  over  the  departments  of  hu- 
man knowledge,  and  see  that  your  plan  is  so  formed  that  it 
will  give  you  some  knowledge  of  them  all.     In  regard  to  the 


r^yO  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN 


Thorough  reading.  Short  works. 

precise  time  and  manner  in  which  you  shall  fill  up  the  de- 
tails, it  is  undoubtedly  best  not  to  form  any  exact  plan.  It 
is  better  to  leave  such  to  be  decided  by  circumstances,  and 
even  by  your  inclinations,  from  time  to  time.  You  will  enter 
with  more  spirit  and  success  into  the  prosecution  of  any  in- 
quiry, if  you  engage  in  it  at  a  time  when  it  seems  alluring 
and  interesting  to  you. 

Read  thoroughly.  Avoid  getting  into  the  habit  of  going 
over  the  page  in  a  listless  and  mechanical  manner.  Make 
an  eftbrt  to  penetrate  to  the  full  meaning  of  your  author,  and 
think  patiently  of  every  difficult  passage,  until  you  un- 
derstand it,  or  if  it  baffles  your  unassisted  efforts,  have  it  ex- 
plained. Reading  thoroughly  requn'es  also  that  j^ou  should 
make  j^ourself  acquainted  with  all  those  attendant  circum- 
stances which  enable  you  the  more  fully  to  understand  the 
author's  meaning.  Examine  carefully  the  title  page  and 
preface  of  every  book  you  read,  that  you  may  learn  who 
wrote  it,  where  it  was  written,  and  what  it  was  written  for. 
Have  at  hand,  if  possible,  such  helps  as  maps,  and  a  gazetteer, 
and  a  biographical  dictionary.  Be  careful  then  to  find  upon 
the  map,  every  jilacc  xnexiiiowQ^A,  and  learn  from  the  gazet- 
teer what  sort  of  place  it  is.  If  an  allusion  is  made  to  any 
circumstances  in  the  life  of  an  eminent  man,  or  in  public 
history,  investigate  by  books  or  by  inquiry,  the  allusion,  so  as 
fuU}^  to  understand  it.  If  possible  find  other  accounts  of 
the  transactions  which  your  author  is  describing,  and  com- 
pare one  with  another, — reflect  upon  the  differences  in  the 
statements,  and  endeavor  to  ascertain  the  truth.  Such  a 
mode  of  reading  as  this  is  a  very  slow  way  of  getting  over 
the  pages  of  a  book,  but  it  is  a  very  rapid  way  of  acquiring 
knowledge. 

Do  not  undertake  to  read  extensire  uwrks  A  young  per- 
son will  sometimes  commence  Hume's  England,  or  Gibbon's 
Decline  and  Fall,  or  Hallam's  Middle  Ages,  or  some  other 
extensive  work,  beginning  it  with  no  calculation  of  the  time 
which  will  be  required  to  complete  it,  and  in  fact  with  no 
definite  plan  whatever.  Such  an  undertaking  is  almost  al- 
ways a  failure.  Any  mind  under  twenty  years  of  age,  will 
get  wearied  out  again  and  ngain,  in  going  through  a 
dozen  octavo  vohimes,  on  any  subject  whatever.  There  is 
no  objection  to  reading  such  works,  but  let  it  be  in  detached 
'portions  of  time.  Select  for  instance  from  Hume's  most  in- 
teresting narrative,  the  reign  of  some  one  monarch,  Elizabeth 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  297 

Conversation.  Difficulty,  of  cultivating  it. 

or  Alfred ; — or  make  choice  of  such  a  subject  as  the  crusa- 
des, or  the  Ufa  of  Mary  Q,ueen  of  Scots,  and  mark  off  such 
a  portion  of  the  whole  work  as  shall  relate  to  the  topic  thus 
chosen.  This  can  easily  be  done,  and  with  no  greater  diffi- 
culty on  account  of  its  compelling  the  reader  to  begin  in  the 
middle  of  the  history,  than  must  be  felt  in  reading  ail 
history.  If  you  begin  at  the  beginning  and  go  regularly 
through  to  the  end,  you  will  find  a  thousand  cases  in  which 
the  narrative  you  read  is  connected  with  other  histories,  in 
such  a  way  as  to  demand  the  same  effort  to  understand  the 
connection,  which  will  be  necessary  in  the  course  I  have 
proposed. 

Form  then  for  your  reading  short  and  definite  plans. 
When  you  commence  a  work  calculate  how  long  it  will  take 
you  to  finish  it,  and  endeavor  to  adhere  to  the  plan  you  shall 
form  in  regard  to  the  degree  of  rapidity  with  which  you 
will  proceed.  This  habit,  if  once  formed,  will  be  the  means 
of  promoting  regularity  and  efficacy  in  all  your  plans. 

II.  Conversation.  This  topic  deserves  a  yolume  in- 
stead of  the  very  brief  notice  which  is  all  that  is  consistent 
with  the  plan  of  this  book.  It  is  known  and  admitted  to 
be  one  of  the  most  important  of  all  attainments,  and  perhaps 
nothing  is  more  desired  by  all  intelligent  young  persons,  who 
reflect  at  all  upon  their  means  of  influence  and  improve- 
ment, than  conversational  power.  But  notwithstanding  this 
general  impression  in  its  favor,  there  is  nothing  of  half  its 
importance  which  is  so  entirely  neglected  in  education. 
And  there  is,  it  must  be  acknowledged  a  very  great  difficul- 
ty in  the  subject.  It  cannot  be  taught  in  schools  and  by 
classes  like  the  other  branches  of  knowledge  or  skill.  Some 
few  successful  experiments  have  indeed  been  made  but  al- 
most every  effort  to  make  it  a  distinct  object  of  attention  in 
a  literary  seminary  has  either  failed  entirely,  or  resulted  in 
producing  a  stiff  and  formal  manner  which  is  very  far  from 
being  pleasing.  Acquiring  skill  in  conversation  therefore, 
must  in  most  cases,  be  left  to  individual  effort,  and  and  even 
here,  if  the  acquisition  of  skill  is  made  the  direct  object, 
the  individual  will  notice  his  manner  so  much,  and  take  so 
much  pains  with  that,  as  to  be  in  peculiar  danger  of  affec- 
tation or  formality.  To  acquire  the  art  of  conversation  then, 
I  would  recommend  that  you  should  practice  conversation 
systematically  and  constantly,  but  that  you  should  have 
some  other  objects  than  improvement  in  your  manner  of  ex- 


298  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Means  ol"  cultivating  it.  Experimments  proposed. 

pressing  yourself,  mainly  in  view.  You  will  become  mter- 
ested  in  these  objects  and  consequently  interested  in  the  con- 
versation which  you  make  use  of  as  a  means  of  promoting 
them,  and  by  not  having  your  own  manner  directly  in  view, 
the  danger  of  that  stiftness,  and  precision,  and  atiectation, 
which  is  so  common  a  result  of  etibrts  to  improve  in  such  an 
art  as  this,  will  be  escaped.  I  will  mention  what  these  ob- 
jects may  be. 

1.  Make.  co7iversatio/i  a  means  of  acquiri7ig  kaoidcdgc. 
Every  person  with  whom  you  are  thrown  into  casual  con- 
nexion has  undoubtedly  some  knowledge  which  would  be 
useful  or  valuable  to  you.  You  are  ridmg  in  the  stage,  I 
will  suppose,  and  the  rough  looking  man  who  sits  by  your 
side  appears  so  unattractive  that  you  do  not  imagine  that  he 
has  any  thing  to  say  which  can  interest  you.  But  speak 
to  him, — draw  him  into  conversation,  and  you  will  find  that 
he  is  a  sea  captain  who  has  visited  a  hundred  ports,  and  can 
tell  you  many  interesting  stories  about  every  clime.  He 
will  hke  to  talk  if  he  finds  you  are  interested  to  hear,  and 
you  may  make,  by  his  assistance,  a  more  important  progress 
in  really  useful  knowledge  during  that  day's  ride,  than  by 
the  study  of  the  best  lesson  from  a  book  that  was  ever  learn- 
ed. Avail  yourselves  in  this  way  of  every  opportunity 
which  Providence  may  place  within  your  reach. 

You  may  do  much  to  anticipate  and  to  prepare  for  con- 
versation. You  expect  I  will  suppose  to  be  thrown  into  the 
company  of  a  gentleman  residing  in  a  distant  cit}'.  Now, 
before  you  meet  him,  go  to  such  sources  of  information  as 
are  within  your  reach,  and  learn  all  you  can  about  that  city. 
You  will  get  some  hints  in  regard  to  its  public  institutions, 
its  situations,  its  business,  and  its  objects  of  interest  of  every 
kind.  Now  3^ou  cannot  read  the  brief  notices  of  this  sort 
which  common  books  can  furnish,  without  having  vour  cu- 
riosity excited,  in  regard  to  some  points  at  least,  and  3'ou  will 
go  into  the  companj'-  of  the  stranger,  not  dreading  his  pres- 
ence, and  shrinking  from  the  necessity  of  conversation, — 
but  eager  to  avail  yourself  of  the  opportunity  of  gratifying 
your  curiosity  and  learning  something  full  and  satisfactory, 
from  an  e^^e-witness  of  the  scenes  which  the  book  had 
so  briefly  described.  By  this  means  too  the  knowledge  of 
books  and  of  conversation, — of  study  and  of  real  life, — will 
be  brought  together,  and  this  is  a  most  important  object 
for    you  to  secure.       It  will  give  vividness    and    an    air 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  299 

Plcins  and  experiments.  Digesting  knowledge. 

of  reality  to  written  description,  if  you  can  frequently,  after 
reading  the  description,  have  an  opportunity  to  converse  with 
one  who  has  seen  the  object  or  the  scene  described. 

You  may  make  a  more  general  preparation  for  the  opportu^ 
nities  for  conversation  which  you  will  enjoy.  Consider  what 
places  and  what  scenes  those  with  whom  you  may  be  casu- 
ally thrown  into  connexion,  will  most  frequently  have  vis- 
ited, and  make  yourselves  as  much  acquainted  with  them  as 
possible.  You  can  then  converse  about  them.  Ascertain 
too  what  are  the  common  topics  of  conversation  in  the  place 
in  which  you  reside,  ^,nd  learn,  by  reading-  or  by  inquiry, 
all  you  can  about  them,  so  that  you  can  be  prepared  to  un- 
derstand fully  what  you  hear,  and  make  your  own  inquiries 
advantageously,  and  thus  be  prepared  to  engage  intelligent- 
ly and  with  good  effect,  in  the  conversation  in  which  you 
may  have  opportunity  to  join. 

On  the  same  principle  it  will  be  well  for  you  when  you 
meet  with  anj'-  difficulty  in  your  reading  or  in  your  studies, 
— or  when  in  private  meditations  any  inquiries  arise  in  your 
minds,  which  3'ou  cannot  yourselves  satisfactorily  answer, 
do  not  dismiss  them  from  your  thoughts,  as  difficulties 
which  must  remain  because  you  cannot  yourselves  remove 
them.  Consider  who  of  your  acquaintances  will  be  most 
probably  able  to  assist  you  in  regard  to  each.  One  may  be 
a  philosophical  question,  another  a  point  of  general  litera- 
ture, and  a  third  may  be  a  question  of  christian  duty.  By  a 
moment's  reflection  you  will  easily  determine  to  whom  each 
ought  to  be  referred,  and  when  the  next  opportunity  occurs 
you  can  refer  them,  and  give  yourself  and  your  friend  equal 
pleasure  by  the  conversation  you  will  thus  introduce. 

2.  Make  conversation  a  means  of  digesting  your  knoiol- 
edgc.  I  am  obliged  to  use  the  term  digest,  because  there  is 
no  other.  The  food  that  is  received  into  the  system  is,  hj  a 
peculiar  set  of  vessels,  dissolved,  and  so  incorporated  with 
the  very  system  itself,  as  to  become  actually  a  part  of  it.  It 
is  assimilated  completely,  and  then  and  only  then,  does  it 
promote  its  growth  and  strength.  Now  it  is  just  so  with  the 
reception  of  knowledge.  It  must  not  only  be  received  by  the 
mind,  but  it  must  he  analyzed,  and  incorporated  with  it,  so  as 
to  form  a  part  of  the  very  mind  itself,  and  then  and  not  till 
then,  can  the  knowledge  be  properly  said  to  be  really  pos- 
sessed. If  a  scholar  reads  a  passage  in  an  author,  simply  re- 
ceiving it  into  the  mind  as  a  mass  will  do  very  little  good. 


300  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Necessity  of  digesting  what  is  read.  Writing. 

Take  for  example  these  very  remarks  on  conversation  ;  a 
reader  may  peruse  the  pages  thoroughly  and  fully  under- 
stand all  that  I  say,  and  yet  the  whole  that  I  present  may  lie 
in  the  mind  an  undigested  mass,  which  never  can  nourish  or 
sustain.  On  the  other  hand  it  may  be  not  merely  received 
into  the  mind,  but  made  a  subject  of  thought  and  reflection 
there  ;  it  may  be  analyzed, — the  principles  it  explains  may 
be  applied  to  the  circumstances  of  the  reader, — the  hints  may 
be  carried  out  and  resolutions  formed  for  acting  in  accordance 
with  the  views  presented.  By  these  and  similar  means  the 
reader  becomes  possessed,  really  and  fully,  of  new  ideas  on 
the  subject  of  conversation.  His  thoughts  and  notions  in  re- 
gard to  it  are  permanently  changed.  His  knowledge,  in  a 
word,  is  digested, — assimilated  to  his  own  mind,  so  as  to  be- 
come as  it  were  a  part  of  it,  and  so  intimately  united  with 
it  as  not  to  be  separated  again. 

Now  conversation  affords  one  of  the  most  important 
means  of  their  digesting  what  is  read  and  heard.  In  fact 
you  cannot  talk  about  what  you  learn,  without  digesting  it. 
Sometimes  two  persons  read  together,  aloud  by  turns,  each 
one  freely  remarking  upon  what  is  read,  making  inquiries  or 
bringing  forward  additional  facts  or  illustrations  connected 
with  the  subject.  Sometimes  two  persons  reading  separately, 
come  afterwards  together  for  a  walk,  and  each  one  describes 
his  own  book,  and  relates  the  substance  of  what  it  contains 
as  far  he  has  read,  bringing  down  at  each  successive  meet- 
mg,  the  narrative  or  the  description  as  far  as  the  reader  has 
gone.  By  this  means,  each  acquires  the  power  of  language 
and  expression, — digests  and  fixes  what  he  has  read,  and 
also  gives  information  to  his  companion.  If  any  two  of  my 
readers  will  try  this  experiment,  they  will  find  much  pleasure 
and  improvement  from  it. 

III.  Writing.  The  third  and  perhaps  the  most  impor- 
tant of  the  means  of  intellectual  improvement  is  the  use 
of  the  pen.  The  powers  of  the  pen  as  an  instrument  for  ac- 
complishing all  the  objects  of  intellectual  effort,  disci- 
pline, knowledge  and  skill,  are  almost  altogether  unknown, 
among  the  young.  I  am  satisfied  however  that  any  gene- 
ral remarks  which  I  might  make  would  be  less  likely  to  in- 
terest my  readers  in  this  subject,  than  a  particular  description 
of  the  manner  in  which  they  can  best  use  the  pen  to  accom- 
plish the  objects  in  view.  I  shall  accordingly  come  at  once 
to  minute  detail. 


PERSONAL     IMPROVEMENT.  301 

1.  Private  Journals.  Form  and  Manner.  Running  titles. 

1.  Personal  Journals.  Every  yonng  person  old  enough 
to  write,  may  take  a  great  deal  of  pleasure  in  keepnig  a 
journal  of  his  own  personal  history.  After  a  very  little 
practice  the  work  itself  will  be  pleasant,  and  the  improve- 
ment which  it  will  promote  is  far  greater  than  one  who  has 
not  exacth^  experienced  it  would  expect.  The  style  should 
be  a  simple  narrative  of  facts, — chiefly  descriptions  of  scenes 
through  which  you  have  passed,  and  memoranda  in  regard 
to  important  points  of  your  history.  Every  thing  relating  to 
your  progress  in  knowledge,  your  plans  for  your  own  im- 
provement, the  books  yow  read,  and  the  degree  of  interest 
which  they  excited  should  be  notified.  You  ought  not  to 
resolve  to  write  every  day  because  sometimes  it  will  be  im- 
possible, and  then  when  your  resolution  has  once  yielded  to 
necessity,  it  will  afterwards  more  easily  be  broken  by  negli- 
gence. Resolve  simply  to  write  luken  you  can,  only  be  care- 
ful to  watch  yourself  and  see  that  you  persevere  in  your 
plan,  whatever  intermptions  may  for  a  time  suspend  it.  At 
the  close  of  the  week  think  how  you  have  been  employed 
during  the  week,  and  make  a  record,  a  short  one  at  least  you 
certainly  can,  of  what  has  interested  you.  When  from  for- 
getfulness,  or  loss  of  interest  in  it,  or  pressure  of  other  du- 
ties, you  have  for  a  long  time-  neglected  yowx  journal,  do  not 
throw  it  aside,  and  take  up  a  new  book  and  begin  formally 
once  more, — but  begin  ivherc  you,  left  off, — filling  up  with  a 
few  paragraphs  the  interval  of  the  history, — and  thus  perse- 
vere. 

There  should  be  in  the  journal  and  in  all  the  other  sets  of 
books  which  I  shall  describe  a  double  runrnng  title,  like  that 
over  the  pages  of  this  book,  with  two  lines  ruled  as  above, 
so  that  the  general  title  may  be  above  the  upper  one,  and  the 
particular  subjects  of  the  each  individual  page  above  the  un- 
der one.     This  double  running  title  would  be  as  follows. 


62                             Personal  Journal. 

1832, 

Ride  into  the  country.               Begin  Botany. 

My  sister's  sickness. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  the  number  62  represents 
the  page.  Corresponding  with  1832  on  the  right  hand  page 
should  be  written  the  name  of  the  place  in  which  the  writer 
resides,  and  the  Private  may  be  used  instead  of  Personal  if 
it  is  preferred.  The  book  should  be  of  such  a  form  as  can  easily 
be  written  in,  and  of  moderate  or  small  size.  You  can  begin  a 
26 


302  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


2.  Family  Journal.  By  brothers  and  sisteis.  Its  advantages. 

second  volume  when  you  have  linished  the  first,  and  the  vol- 
umes will  in  a  few  years  begin  to  be  numerous.  Some  per- 
sons adopt  the  plan  of  writing  in  little  books  stitched  togetli- 
er,  made  of  ten  half  sheets  of  letter  paper  folded  once,  with 
a  plain  marble  paper  cover.  These  little  pamphlets  are  more 
easily  written  in  than  bound  volumes,  and  after  a  dozen  of 
them  are  filled,  they  may  be  bound  up  by  a  book  binder  into 
a  volume  of  the  size  of  this  book.  1  have  seen  very  many 
manuscript  volumes  made  in  this  \v<xy. 

A  journal  now,  kept  in  this  systematic  manner,  will  be  in- 
teresting and  valuable,  if  you  describe  m  it  the  things 
that  most  inlcrested  yon  at  the  age  in  which  j^ou  kept  it ; 
and  if  it  is  carried  on  regularly  through  life,  even  with  such 
interruptions  as  I  have  alluded  to,  it  will  be  a  most  valuable 
and  most  interesting  document.  You  will  read  its  pages 
again  and  again  with  profit  and  pleasure. 

2.  Family  Journal.  Let  three  or  four  of  the  older  broth- 
ers and  sisters  of  a  family  agree  to  write  a  history  of  the 
family.  Any  father  would  procure  a  book  for  this  purpose 
and  if  the  writers  are  j^oung,  the  articles  intended  for  inser- 
tion in  it  might  be  written  first  on  separate  paper,  and  then 
corrected  and  transcribed.  The  subjects  suitable  to  be  re- 
corded in  such  a  book,  will  suggest  themselves  to  every  one ; 
a  description  of  the  place  of  residence  at  the  time  of  com- 
mencing the  book  with  similar  descriptions  of  other  places 
from  time  to  time  in  case  of  removals,— the  journeys  or  ab- 
sences of  the  head  of  the  family  oi'  its  members, — the  sad 
scenes  of  sickness  or  death  which  may  be  witnessed,  and 
the  joyous  ones  of  weddings  or  festivites  or  holidays, — the 
manner  in  which  the  members  are  from  time  to  time  employ- 
ed,— and  pictures  of  the  scenes  which  the  fireside  group  ex- 
hibits in  the  long  winter  evening,  or  the  conversation  which 
is  heard,  and  the  plans  formed  at  the  supper  table,  or  in  the 
morning  walk. 

If  a  family  when  it  is  first  established  should  commence 
such  a  record  of  their  own  efforts  and  plans,  and  the  various 
dealings  of  Providence  tow^ards  them,  the  father  and  the 
mother  carrying  it  on  jointly  until  the  children  are  old 
enough  to  take  the  pen,  they  would  find  the  work  a  source 
of  great  improvement  and  pleasure.  It  would  tend  to  keep 
distinctly  in  view  the  great  objects  for  which  the}^  ought  to 
live,  and  repeatedly  recognizing,  as  they  doubtless  would  do, 
the  hnnd  of  God,  thoy  woukl  feel  more  sensibly  and  more 
constantly  their  dependence  upon  him. 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  303 

Subjects.  3.  Notes  and  Abstracts.  True  design  of  taking  notes. 

The  form  and  manner  in  which  sucli  a  journal  should  be 
written,  might  properly  be  the  same  with  that  described  under 
the  last  head ; — the  word  Family  being  substituted  for  Per- 
sonal, in  the  general  titled'"'  It  ought  also  to  be  written  in 
such  a  style  and  upon  such  subjects  as  shall  render  it  proper 
to  give  children  free. access  to  it.  On  ^his  account  it  will  be 
well  to  avoid  sueji  particulars  in  regard  to  anj^  child,  as  may 
be  flatteiiiig  to  his  vanity  when  he  shall  become  old  enough 
to  read  them,  and  to  refrain  from  making  a  record  of  faults, 
which  will  remain  a  standing  source  of  suffering  and  dis- 
grace, when  perhaps  they  ought  soon  to  be  forgotten.  It  is 
true  that  one  of  the  most  important  portions  of  such  a  jour- 
nal would  consist  of  the  description  of  the  various  plans 
adopted  for  correcting  faults,  and  for  promoting  imju'ovement 
— the  peculiar  moral  and  nitellectual  treatment  which  each 
child  received,  the  success  of  the  various  experiments  in  ed- 
ucation which  intelligent  parents  will  always  be  disposed  to 
try,  and  anecdotes  of  children,  illustrating  the  language  or 
the  sentiments  or  difficulties  of  childhood.  With  a  little 
dexterity  however  on  the  ptirt  of  the  writer,  a  faithful  record 
of  all  these  things  can  be  kqot,  and  yet,  by  an  omission  of 
names,  or  of  some  important  circumstances,  the  evils  I  have 
above  alluded  to  may  be  avoided. 

3.  Notes  ajid  Abstracts.  It  is  sometimes  the  case  that 
young  pei*sons,  when  they  meet  anj^thing  remarkable  in  the 
course  of  their  reading,  transcribe  z?,  with  the  expectation  of 
referring  to  their  copy  afterwards  to  refresh  their  memories, 
and  thus,  after  a  while,  they  get  tlieir  desks  very  full  of 
knowledge,  while  very  little  remains  in  the  head.  Now  it 
ought  to  be  remembered  iJiat  knowledge  is  of  no  value,  or  at 
least  of  scarcely  any,  unless  it  is  fairly  lodged  in  the  mind^ 
and  so  digested,  as  I  have  before  shown,  as  to  become  a  perma- 
nent possession.  Now  if  transcribing,  and  writing  notes  and 
abstracts  of  what  you  read  is  made  the  means  of  fixing 
thus  firmly  in  the  mind  your  various  acquisitions,  it  is  of 
immense  value;  if  made  the  suMtitnte  for  it,  it  is  worse 
than  useless.  It  may  be  a  most  powerful  means,  as  any 
one  may  prove  to  himself  by  tbe  following  experiment. 

Read  some  history  in  the  ordinary  way,  without  the  use 
of  the  pen,  with  the  exception  that  you  select  some  chapter 
in  the  middle  of  the  work,  with  which  you  may  try  the  ex- 
periment of  an  abstract.     After  having  read  it  attentively, 


304  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Form  of  Books.  Plan.  Variety. 

shut  the  book  and  write  the  substance  of  the  narrative  it 
contains.  The  more  you  deviate  in  style  and  language 
from  your  author  the  better,  because  by  such  a  deviation 
3"0u  employ  more  your  own  original  resources,  you  reduce 
the  knowledge  you  have  gained  to  a  form  adapted  to  your 
own  habits  of  thought,  and  you  consequently  make  it  more 
fully  your  own,  and  lix  it  more  indeliblj'^  in  the  mind.  After 
iinislnng  the  abstract  of  that  chapter,  go  on  with  the  remain- 
der of  the  book  in  the  usual  way,  by  snuplj^  reading  it  atten- 
tively. You  will  lind  now,  if  you  carefully  try  this  experi- 
ment, that  the  chapter  which  you  have  thus  treated,  will  for 
many  years  stand  out  most  conspicuous  from  all  the  rest  in 
your  recollections  of  the  work.  The  facts  which  it  has 
stated  will  retain  possession  of  your  minds  when  all  the  rest 
are  forgotten,  and  they  will  come  up  when  wanted  for  use, 
with  a  readiness  which  will  shew  how  entirely  you  made 
them  your  own. 

It  is  on  this  principle  and  with  such  a  view  that  notes 
and  abstracts  are  to  be  written.  Some  very  brief  practical 
directions  will  be  of  service  to  those  who  wish  to  adopt  the 
plan. 

Do  not  resolve  to  write  copious  abstracts  of  all  that  you 
read.  The  labor  would  be  too  great.  Never  read  however 
without  your  abstract  book  at  hand,  and  record  whatever 
strikes  you  as  desirable  to  be  remembered.  Sometimes  when 
reading  a  book  of  great  importance,  and  full  of  information 
which  is  new  and  valuable,  you  may  v/rite  a  full  abstract  of 
the  whole.  Gibbon,  the  celebrated  historian,  attributed,  it  is 
said,  much  of  the  success  of  his  writing  to  the  influence  of  his 
having  made  a  very  copious  abstract  of  Blackstone's  Com- 
mentaries, a  most  interesting  book,  and  one  which  no  young 
man  of  intelligence  can  read  without  profit  and  pleasure. 

Let  the  form  of  your  books  be  like  the  Journals  above  de- 
scribed ;  with  ruled  lines  at  the  top  for  a  double  running  title, 
to  facilitate  reference.  These  lines  should  be  ruled  on  through 
the  book  at  first,  at  least  the}''  should  be  kept  ruled  far  in 
advance  of  the  writing,  or  the  writer  will  inadvertently^ 
3mit  to  leave  a  space  for  them.  I  have  known  many  books 
commenced  on  tliis  plan,  but  never  one,  1  believe,  without 
having  this  accident  occur  to  vex  and  discourage  the  writer. 

Let  your  abstracts  be  of  every  variety  of  form  and  man- 
ner. Sometimes  long  and  semetimes  short,  sometimes  fully 
written  in  a  finished  style,  and  someti.raes  merely  a  table  of 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  305 

Specimens.  Reynolds,  Humboldt. 

contents  of  your  book.  There  may  be  a  blank  line  left  be- 
tween the  separate  articles,  and  the  title  of  each  should  be 
written  before  it,  and  doubly  underscored,  that  is  distinguish- 
ed by  a  double  line  drawn  under  it.  This  is  represented  in 
printing  by  small  capitals.  When  this  is  the  title  of  the 
book  read,  and  is  perfixed  to  a  long  abstract,  it  may  properly 
be  placed  over  the  article.  Sometimes  the  w^riter  will  merely 
copy  a  remarkable  expression,  or  a  single  interesting  fact, 
at  other  times  a  valuable  moral  sentiment,  or  a  happy  illus- 
tration. He  will  often  insert  only  a  single  paragraph  from 
a  long  book,  and  at  other  times  make  a  full  abstract  of  its 
contents.  But  I  must  give"  specimens,  as  by  this  means  I 
can  much  more  readily  give  my  readers  an  idea  of  my 
meaning.  These  specimens  are  not  imaginary  ones.  They 
are  all  taken  from  three  or  four  abstract  books  of  different 
young  persons,  who  lent  them  to  me  for  this  purpose.  The 
titles  in  Capitals  represent  the  underscored  words  described 
ahove.  To  suit  the  running  title  at  the  top,  which  should 
be  like  the  specimen  alread}^  given,  w^ith  the  exception  that 
the  words  Notes  and  Abstracts  should  be  substituted  for 
Personal  Journal. 

Friendship.  A  mafl  should  keep  his  friendship  in  constant  repair. 
— Johnson. 

Reynolds.  Sir  John  Reynolds,  a  celebrated  portrait  painter,  co- 
temporary  and  friend  of  Johnson,  Goldsmith,  &c.  one  of  the  founders  of 
the  Royal  Academy,  and  for  many  years  its  President.  He  was  born  near 
Plymouth,  but  resided  in  London  during  most  of  his  hfe,  occasionally 
making  tours  to  the  continent.  He  nearly  lost  his  life  in  the  close  of 
life,  and  died  at  an  advanced  age  of  a  disease  of  the  liver. — JVorthcoles' 
Life  of  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds. 

Florence.  The  Academy  of  Fine  Arts  in  Florence  is  the  most  cel- 
ebrated school  of  painting  in  the  world. 

Humboldt's  New  Spain.  Introduction  gives  an  account  of  his 
own  geometrical  and  astronomical  observations  in  attempting  to  deter- 
mine the  position  of  several  points,  and  likewise  the  other  sources  pf 
information  which  he  had.  There  are  nine  points  at  each  of  which  a 
communication  has  been  proposed  to  be  made  between  the  Atlantic 
and  Pacific, — Vera  Cruz,  the  eastern,  and  Acapulco,  the  western  port 
of  Mexico.  Gold  and  silver,  he  says,  travels  from  west  to  east ; — the 
ocean,  the  atmosphere  and  civilization  in  a  contrary  direction. 

The  Andes  in  Peru  are  more  broken  and  rough  than  in  Mexico ; 
the  plains,  though  elevated,  are  comparatively  small,  and  hemmed  in 
by  lofty  mountains,  or  separated  by  deep  precipitous  vallies. 

*26 


306  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Chronolog-y.  Synagogues.  Abridged  Abstracts. 

In  Mexico  the  chain  of  mountains  spreads  itself  out  into  immense 
plains  with  few  sudden  declivities  or  precipices.  Fruits  of  every 
climate  may  be  cultivated  on  these  elevations  at  the  various  heights, 
but  not  with  so  much  success  on  account  of  the  rarefaction  of  the  at- 
mosphere, as  they  can  in  nothern  latitudes.  At  certain  seasons  of  the 
year  both  coasts  of  Mexico  are  inaccessible  on  account  of  storms.  The 
ixavigation  on  the  east  side  is  impeded  by  sand  banks  washed  in  by 
the  westerly  currents  of  the  ocean. 

Chronology.  Difference  between  the  chronology  of  the  Hebrew 
and  Septuagint  manuscripts. 

Mt.  Ararat  probably  in  the  north  of  India,  in  Shuckford's  opinion. 

English  Empire  in  India.  The  English  and  French  had  about  the 
middle  of  the  last  century  several  factories  on  various  parts  of  the 
coasts  of  Hindoostan,  In  their  quarrels  with  each  other,  they  endea- 
vored to  secure  to  themselves  the  co-operation  of  the  natives,  and  in 
this  way  the  Europeans  and  the  Hindoos  became  involved  in  the  wars 
of  each  other.  The  English  were  generally  successful,  and  in  this 
way  gradually  extended  their  influence  and  their  power. 

Raja  Dowlah,  sovereign  of  Bengal,  a  wealthy  extensive  and  popu- 
lous country,  became  a  little  alarmed  at  the  progress  which  tlie  Eng- 
lish made  in  their  contentions  with  the  French,  concerning  their  re- 
spective settlements  in  that  country.  He  endeavored  to  oppose  them,  and 
inconsequence  the  English  fomented  a  conspiracy  against  his  govern- 
ment, enticed  his  prime  minister  to  treason,  and  then,  after  fighting  a 
single  battle,  placed  liini  in  command.  Col.  Clive  was  the  instru- 
ment of  this  revolution.  The  province  of  Bengal  thus  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  East  India  Company. 

A  short  time  afterwards  the  French  were  conquered  at  Coromandel, 
and  the  natives  brought  under  the  power  of  the  English. 

Synagogues.  It  is  generally  supposed  that  the  Jewish  synagogues 
originated  during  the  captivity,  and  were  continued  after  their  return. 
■'—Kimpton. 

I  should  suppose  from  the  appearance  of  these  articles, 
which  were  the  first  few  pages  of  a  larce  book  of  this  kind, 
that  they  were  all  the  notes  taken  of  the  reading  of  some 
weeks,  as  scve/al  books  of  considerable  size  are  quoted  as 
authority.  It  is  perhaps  not  best  that  the  writer  should 
resolve  upon  any  particular  quantity  each  day,  or  for  each 
book,  and  as  I  remarked  in  regard  to  the  Journal,  when  you 
find  that  you  have  for  some  time  neglected  your  pen,  do  not 
be  discouraged  and  g\\*e  up  the  jilan,  but  calmly  begin  where 
you  left  off,  and  rencnv  your  work  and  your  resokuion  to- 
gether. 

Sometimes  the  absirnr.ts  may  l.)e  in  a  more  abridged  stj^le, 
like  a  table  of  contents.  They  can  be  more  rapidly  written 
in  this  form,  but  the  benefit  derived  from  the  exercise  is  less. 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  307 

History  of  the  Bible.  Sir  Humphrey  Davy. 

The  following  is  an  example  from  another  book,  by  another 
writer.  You  will  perceive  that  the  style  is  so  condensed 
that  the  notes  can  merely  serve  as  memoranda  for  the  wri- 
ter' s  own  use.  They  are  scarcely  intelligible  to  another  person. 

History  of  the  Bible. 

Old  and  Jfeio  Testaments.  Hebrew  and  Greek.  Continua  Scriptio, 
At  various  times  and  places.  Samaritan  Pentateuch :  discrepancies 
between  it  and  the  Hebrew  Bible.  Controversy.  Discovery  in  mod- 
ern times  of  these  Manuscripts. 

Its  preservation  by  successive  transcripts.  Old  ones  worn  out  and  lost. 
Exemplars. 

Greek  Testament.     Why  in  Greek.     Circulated  in  manuscript. 

Textus  receptus.  Elzevir  Edition.  Pres.  Manuscripts  imperfect. 
Written  about  1000  or  1400  Alexandrian  Manuscripts.  Vatican. 
Modes  of  determining  antiquity.     British  Museum. 

Translations.  Septuagint.  Vulgate.  Printed  editions  of  the  Bible 
and  Greek  Testament.  Complutensian  Polyglot.  Sources  of  infor- 
mation. Manuscrips.  Septuagint.  Samaritan  Pentateuch ;  quota- 
tions, 1514. 

English.  Wickliffe's.  Oppositions  made  to  it.  Circulated  in  man- 
uscript. Tindal's  printed  in  Holland.  Efforts  to  keep  copies  out  of 
England.  Bishop  of  London  bought  up  the  whole  edition  to  burn. 
James'  Bible.  Fifty-four  men  at  various  places,  Cambridge,  Oxford 
and  Westminster.  Later  translations,  1607.  Forty-seven  men  of  the 
fifty  met  to  compare,  and  after  three  years  labor,  issued,  in  1660,  the 
most  commonly  approved  version. 

Another  form  in  which  these  abstracts  may  be  written, 
where  the  importance  of  the  subject  or  the  interest  of  the 
reader  renders  it  desirable,  is  by  giving  a  full  and  complete 
view  of  the  facts  on  some  one  topic.  The  following  taken 
from  a  third  abstract  book  is  a  specimen. 

Sir  Humphrey  Davy. 

Born  at  Penzance,  Cornwall,  Eng.  Dec.  1779.  His  family  were  in 
the  middle  rank  in  life,  and  in  reduced  circumstances,  so  that  he  was 
thrown  upon  his  own  efforts  and  resources  at  an  early  age.  At  the 
age  of  nine  years  distinguished  for  his  poetical  talents.  At  18  his 
acqviirements  in  many  of  the  sciences  were  good,  but  chemistry  par- 
ticularly arrested  his  attention.  His  first  experiments  showed  origi- 
nality, and  his  pursuit  promised  useful  discoveries.  His  first  exami- 
nation of  sea- weed  proved  that  marine  plants  exert  the  same  influence 
upon  the  air  contained  in  the  water  of  the  ocean,  as  land  vegetables 
exert  upon  the  atmosphere.  Two  years  after  commencing  his  chemi- 
cal studies  he  published  his  ''  Researches,"  which  exhibited  great 
skill,  and  give  to  the  world  many  original  experiments  and  discoveries. 
He  first  tried  the  experiment  of  inhaling  the  nitrous  oxide — the  exhiler- 
ating  gas.     When  not  much  over  20  years  of  age,  he  was  designated 


308  YOUMG    CHRISTIAN. 

Sir  Huinphiey  Davy.  Story  of  ihe  Sea  Captain. 

to  fill  the  chemical  chair  in  the  Royal  Institution  of  Great  Britain — 
founded  by  Count  Rumford.  His  first  eiForts  in  this  elevated  sphere 
were  turned  towards  endeavoring  to  render  his  powers  useful  and  ad- 
vantageous to  the  arts  employed  in  the  humbler  walks  of  life.  The 
tanning  of  leather,  and  agricultural  implements  were  among  the  sub- 
jects of  his  first  attention,  and  he  adapted  himself  admirably  to  the 
circumstances  of  the  practical  agriculturist.  In  1G06 — 7,  he  made  his 
brilliant  discoveries  in  Galvanism  ;  in  IfclO,  he  brought  forward  his 
theory  respecting  the  nature  of  chlorine  or  oxy -muriatic  acid,  which 
gave  rise  to  a  memorable  controversy  that  agitated  the  schools  of 
chemistry  ten  years.  At  the  close  of  this  period,  nearly  the  whole 
army  of  chemists  came  over  to  his  side.  In  Idli^,  he  was  knighted  by 
the  Prince  Regent  (George  IVth,)  and  was  thus  released  from  the 
arduous  duties  of  the  Proiessorship — nnd  was  enabled  to  devote  him- 
self wholly  to  his  pursuits.  His  attempts  to  unrol  the  valuable  MSS. 
found  in  the  ruins  of  Herculaneum,  1G!*G  in  number,  were  frustrated 
by  unavoidable  obstacles  thrown  in  his  way  by  jealous  superinten- 
dants  of  the  Museum,  but  the  enterprize  was  not  wholly  fruitless;  23 
MSS.  being  partially  unrolled.  IdlS  was  rendered  memorable  by 
the  invention  of  the  Safety  Lamp.  Terrible  disasters  had  occurred  in 
the  coal  mines  in  England  for  years — a  species  of  gas,  extricated  from 
the  coal,  on  mixing  with  atmospheric  air,  takes  fire  from  a  lamp,  and 
explodes  with  great  violence.  All  previous  efforts  to  obviate  these 
dangers  had  proved  ineffectual,  but  the  experience  of  14  years,  while 
this  lamp  has  been  in  constant  and  extensive  use,  without  the  occur- 
rence of  a  single  explosion,  proves  its  importance,  and  the  benefit  con- 
ferred on  the  world  by  its  invention.  In  1820,  by  a  majority  of  200 
to  13,  he  was  elected  President  of  the  Royal  Institution.  His  last 
great  scientific  eflfort  was  the  discover}'^  of  a  method  of  protecting  the 
copper  sheathing  of  ships  from  corrosion  by  sca-icatcr.  His  method  of 
proceeding  in  tiiis  and  all  similar  cases,  was  simple  and  obvious, — yet 
one  rarely  followed,  viz.:  first,  to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  evil,  and 
then  to  find  out  how  to  control  it  by  studjang  its  nature.  He  died  at 
Geneva,  where  he  liad  resorted  for  his  health,  of  apoplexy,  aged  50 
years,  6  months. 

I  have  one  more  form  to  describe,  in  which  these  notes 
and  abstracts  may  be  kept.  It  requires  a  Uttle  higher  intel- 
lectual effort  and  is  consequently  more  useful  than  the  others. 
You  meet,  in  conversation  or  m  reading,  with  some  fact, 
which  illustrates  a  useful  and  important  general  principle, 
or  which  suggests  to  you  an  interesting  train  of  thought. 
You  record  the  fact  and  the  reflections  which  it  suggests 
together.  For  example,  to  make  use  of  a  case  which  actu- 
ally occurred,  a  sea  captain  remarks  in  your  hearing  that  it 
is  unwise  to  promise  sailors  extra  pay  for  their  extra  exer- 
tions in  difficult  emergencies,  for  it  soon  has  the  effect  of 
rendering  them  indolent  unless  such  extra  pay  is  offered. 
They  are  continually  on  the  watch  for  occasions  on  which 
they  can  demand  it.  This  conversation  might  suggest  the 
following  entry  in  a  note  book. 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  309 

Hiring  Children.     The  Saviour'.s  thirst  on  the  Cross.     Deceiving  Children. 

Hiring  Children.  Parents  should  never  promise  their  children 
any  reward  for  doing  right,  or  from  refraining  from  doing  wrong.  A 
sea  captain  was  once  so  unwise  as  to  promise  his  sailors  in  a  storm, 
that  if  they  would  exert  themselves,  he  would  reward  them  by  an 
addition  to  their  wages  when  the  storm  was  over.  They  did  make  an 
unusual  effort  and  received  the  reward  ;  but  the  consequence  was  that 
he  could  never  afterwards  get  them  to  do  their  duty  in  a  storm  without 
a  reward  being  promised.  In  the  same  manner,  if  parents  begin  by 
hiring  their  children  to  do  right,  they  will  not  afterwards  do  right 
without  being  hired. 

The  following  are  similar  examples  but  on  different  sub- 
jects. The  second  was  written  by  a  pi.ipil  m  a  Female 
(School. 

The  Saviour's  thirst  on  the  Cross.  The  dreadful  thirst  of  the 
Saviour  on  the  cross  was  occasioned  by  the  violent  fever  produced 
by  the  inflammation  of  his  wounds.  I  met  with  the  following  passage 
to-day,  in  the  narrative  of  a  soldier,  which  illustrates  this  subject. 

"  I  remember  well  as  we  moved  down  in  column,  shot  and  shell 
flew  over  and  through  it  in  quick  succession  We  sustained  little 
injury  from  either,  but  a  captain  of  the  twenty -ninth  had  been 
dreadfully  lacerated  by  a  ball,  and  lay  directly  in  our  path.  We  passed 
close  to  him ;  he  knew  us  all ;  and  the  heart  rending  tone  in  which 
he  called  to  us  for  water  or  to  hill  him,  I  shall  never  forget.  He  lay 
alone,  and  we  were  in  motion  and  could  give  him  no  succour,  for  on 
this  trying  day  such  of  the  dying  as  could  not  walk,  lay  unattended 
where  they  fell.  All  was  hurry  and  struggle  ;  every  arm  was  wanted 
in  the  field." 

Deceiving  Children.  Returning  from  school  yesterday  afternoon 
ray  attention  was  arrested  by  the  loud  voice  of  some  one  addressing 
a  child  ;  I  turned,  and  as  I  walked  very  leisurely,  I  overheard  the 
following  conversation. 

Lady.  John,  do  you  leave  off"  playing  in  the  snow  ;  see  your  clean 
clothes  now,  and  your  shoes  are  filled  with  snow. 

John.  I  don't  care  for  that,  I  shall  play  here  if  I'm  a  mind  to,  for 
all  you. 

Lady.  You  little  impudence  ;  I  don't  love  you,  I  don't  love  you  at 
all. 

John.     Well,  that's  no  matter. 

Lady.     I'll  go  off",  then  ;  good  night.     I  am  going  to  the  jail. 

She  turns  round  and  walks  down  the  street  a  little  distance. 

Lady.     You  see  I'm  going,  John. 

John.     I  don't  care  if  you  are. 

Presently  she  walked  tslowly  back  and  came  up  to  John,  at  the 
same  time  he  gave  a  hearty  laugh,  saying,  "  I  thought  you  were 
going  to  the  jail." 

I  had  now  got  so  far  as  not  to  be  able  to  hear  what  more  they  said, 
but  I  could  not  help  pitying  the  child,  who  thus  early  was  taught  to 
disobey  his  superiors,  for  surely  it  is  nothing  less. 

Many  parents  and  even  brothers  and  sisters  complain  of  the  con- 
duct of  the  younger  members  of  their  families,  while  they  are  contin- 


310  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Narratives-  Ellen,  or  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow. 

ually   treating   them   in   this   manner ;    they  certainly  need  expect 
nothing  better  from  them,  while  they  endeavor  thus  to  deceive  them. 

The  above  examples  illustrate  well  what  I  mean  bj  turn- 
ing knowledge  to  account, — drawing  from  it  the  practical 
lessons  which  it  may  help  to  teach.  This  is  the  fact  the 
most  important  part  of  your  object  in  mental  cultivation. 
Many  young  persons  err  exceedingly,  in  seeking  simply 
knowledge,  which  thej^  treasure  up  in  a  cold  and  speculative 
form,  without  drawing  from  it  any  moral  lessons,  or  making 
it  the  means  of  awakening  any  of  the  strong  emotions  of 
the  heart.  But  I  wish  my  readers  would  always  remember 
that  worrt/ progress  is  far  more  valuable  ih^iW  intellectual ; 
the  latter  in  fact  is  but  the  instrument  of  the  former.  In 
all  j'-our  writing  then,  aim  at  accomplishing  the  real  object 
which  ought  always  to  be  kept  in  view.  In  selecting  from 
your  reading,  or  from  your  personal  observation,  what  you 
will  impress  upon  your  memories  with  the  pen,  choose  those 
facts  and  occurrences  which  to^uched  j^our  hearts,  and  whose 
impressions  your  pen  may  strengthen  or  renew.  I  close  the 
chapter  with  two  specimens  which  will  illustrate  this.  One, 
as  will  be  evident  from  its  own  allusions,  was  written  by  a 
pupil  in  a  female  boarding  school,  and  it  will  be  observed  in 
reading  it,  how  the  ordinary  occurrences  of  life  may  be 
made  the  means,  through  the  instrumentality  of  reflection, 
and  of  the  pen,  of  fixing  in  the  heart  the  lessons  of  the  Bible. 
Both  narratives  are  true. 

Boast   not  thysklf  of  To-morrow. 

Yesterday  our  summer  term  closed,  and  a  day  of  bustle  it  was. 
Every  moment  that  could  possiblv  be  spared  frr>m  our  studies,  was  de- 
voted to  preparations  for  returning  home — packing  trunks,  exchang- 
ing parting  words,  and  talking  over  various  plans  for  enjoyment  dur- 
ing the  vacation,  which  all  seemed  to  anticipate  as  a  continued  scene 
of  unalloyed  happiness. 

My  afflicted  room-male,  Ellon,  was  then  the  happiest  of  the  happy. 
She  is  an  only  daughter,  a  most  affectionate,  warm-hearted  girl,  and 
has  been  so  much  elated  for  the  last  ^kw  days  at  the  thought  of  meet- 
ing her  beloved  parents  and  brothers,  that  she  has  seemed  to  tread  on 
air  ;  but  I  fear  now,  that  when  they  meet  it  will  be  in  a  deep  sorrow. 

Last  evening  we  assenibled  in  the  hall  for  our  devotions,  and  as  is 
customary,  each  young  lady  repeated  a  text  of  scripture,  before  we 
united  in  prayer.  "  lioast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou  knowest 
not  what  a  day  may  bring  forth,"  was  Ellen's  text.  It  was  particularly 
observed  by  several,  on  account  of  the  appropriate  warning  it  seemed 
to  convey.  She  little  thouL'ljt  how  soon  her  own  experience  would 
confirm  its  truth.     After  bidding  our  teacher  good  night,  she  skipped 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  311 


The  story  of  Ellen  continued. 


up  stairs  with  a  glee  and  lightheartedness,  that  could  scarcely  be  re- 
strained within  proper  bounds,  exclaiming,  "  to-morrow — to-morrow 
how  happy  i  shall  be." 

Remember  your  text,  dear  Ellen,  said  one  of  our  beloved  compan- 
ions with  sad  a  smile,  as  she  passed  on  to  her  own  room.  '*  I  wish  J. 
would  not  talk  so  seriously,"  said  Ellen,  as  we  closed  our  door  for  the 
night,  "  but  then  after  all  I  love  her  the  more  fof  it.  I  heard  some 
one  say  that  she  had  been  much  afflicted  for  one  so  young." 

This  morning  Ellen  was  av;ake  at  the  peep  of  dawn,  and  waked  me, 
that  I  might  enjoy  with  her,  through  our  half  closed  curtains,  the 
deepening  glow  in  the  east,  which  gave  promise  of  a  fine  day  for 
her  ride  home.  When  the  bell  summoned  us  to  prayers,  every  thing 
was  ready  for  her  journey,  and  she  met  the  family  in  her  riding  dress, 
that  no  time  might  be  lost  after  her  father,  whom  she  expected  for 
her,  should  arrive. 

'*  Boast  not  thyself  of  to-morrow  for  thou  knowest  not  what  a  day 
ma}'  bring  forth,"  were  the  first  words  that  met  our  ear  from  the  se- 
lection of  scripture  which  our  teacher  had  chosen  for  the  morning. 

''  We  have  had  your  text  again,  Ellen  ;  "  whispered  one  of  the 
girls  as  we  went  to  the  breakfast  room.  "  Ominous  of  evil — say  you 
not  so  ?  " 

"  /  am  not  superstitious,"  said  Ellen,  smiling,  "  besides,  it  refers  to 
to-rnorrow,  not  to  to-daij." 

At  the  breakfast  table,  little  was  eaten  and  little  was  said.  There 
were  happy  faces  there,  but  the  joyous  excitement  of  the  preceding 
evening  had  given  place  to  deeper  feeling.  Many  were  in  a  few  hours 
to  meet  their  beloved  parents,  from  whom  they  had  been  separated 
for  several  months  ;  and  all  were  expecting  some  friend  to  take  them 
to  their  respective  homes.  Our  parting  was  not  however  to  be  par- 
ticularly painful,  as  all  expected  to  meet  again  at  the  expiration  of 
the  vacation. 

As  we  were  rising  from  the  table  a  servant  came  in  with  the  letters 
which  had  arrived  in  ilie  morning's  mail.  One  was  given  to  Ellen. 
She  broke  the  seal,  and  glancing  at  the  contents,  hastily  placed  it 
in  the  hand  of  the  governess,  rushed  up  to  our  own  room.  I  followed 
and  found  her  in  tears,  greatly  agitated.  Her  emotion  was  too  crreat 
to  allow  her  to  tell  me  the  cause.  The  governess  came  up  and  gave 
me  the  letter  to  read,  kindly  saying  at  the  same  time,  that  I  had  bet- 
ter leave  Ellen  alone  a  few  minutes,  until  the  first  burst  of  sorrow 
should  be  over,  and  then  she  would  be  in  a  better  state  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  consolation. 

The  letter  was  from  her  parents,  brief,  yet  evidently  written  under 
the  influence  of  strong  excitement.  They  had  just  heard  of  the  sud- 
den and  dangerous  illness  of  their  eldest  son,  a  young  gentleman  of 
high  promise,  who  had  nearly  completed  his  professional  studies.  His 
physicians  gave  not  the  slightest  hope  of  his  life.  His  parents  made 
immediate  preparations  for  leaving  home,  with  the  faint  hope,  that  by 
rapid  travelling  they  might  be  enabled  to  be  with  their  beloved  child 
in  his  dying  moments.  They  could  not  take  Ellen  with  them,  and  the 
best  arrangement  they  could  make  for  her,  was  to  have  her  remain 
where  she  then  was,  until  their  return. 

I  returned  to  Ellen,  but  found  her  scarcely  more  composed  than 
when  I  left  her.  To  this  brother  she  was  most  fondly  attached.  He 
had  written  to  her  frequently,  and  taken  a  deep  interest  in  her  studies 


312  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Ellen.  The  dying  bed. 

and  amusements.  He  expected  to  have  been  at  home  during  a  part 
of  her  vacation,  and  now  the  thought  of  never  meeting  him  again  was 
agony.  1  knew  not  what  to  say,  I  could  only  weep  witn  her,  and  silently 
commend  her  to  "  Him  who  healeth  the  broken  in  heart,"  entreating, 
that  she  might  be  enabled  submissively  to  say,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 
My  father'consents  that  I  should  remain  for  two  or  three  days  with 
Ellen.  I  know  that  more  striking  instances  of  the  uncertainty  of 
eartlily  prospects  are  constantly  occurring,  but  1  feel  that  the  scenes 
of  to-day  have  made  an  impression  upon  ray  own  heart  and  the  hearts 
of  my  companions,  that  can  never  be  effaced.  I  shall  never  again 
hear  others  planning  with  confidence  for  the  future,  without  thinking 
of  poor  Ellen's  disappointment  and  affliction,  and  of  the  text,  "  Boast 
not  thyself  of  to-morrow,  for  thou  knovvest  not  what  a  day  may  bring 
forth." 

The  other  narrative  is  more  serious  still  in  its  subject.  Both 
might  have  been  given  with  propriety  as  specimens  of  Per- 
sonal Journals,  though  as  they  do  not  give  strictly  the  per- 
sonal history  of  the  writer,  this  may  perhaps  better  be  in- 
serted here.  I  admit  this  last  the  more  readily,  as  the 
thoughts  of  the  final  account  which  we  all  must  render  are 
brought  up  very  distinctly  to  view  by  it,  and  this  thought 
is  a  very  proper  one  to  be  presented,  now  that  this  volume 
is  drawing  to  a  close,  as  a  means  of  fixing  the  resolutions 
which  I  trust  some  of  my  readers  at  least  have  formed, 
and  stimulating  to  diUgence  in  duty. 

The  Dying  Bed. 

"  On  Monday,  a  few  minutes  before  breakfast  a  messenger 
came  to  me  with  a  note  from  a  gentleman  whom  I  shall 
call  Mr.  A.,  whose  wife,  the  Saturday  previous,  was  taken 
suddenly  ill.  She  became  worse  and  worse  until  she  was 
considered  in  a  dangerous  situation.  And  now  lier  husband 
addressed  a  note  to  me,  requesting  me  to  visit  his  wife,  '  for 
she  is,'  said  he,  '  as  sick  as  she  can  well  live.' 

Immediately  after  breakfast  I  hastened  over  to  their  house 
and  found  her  very  weak  and  low.  She  seemed  near  her 
end.  Having  understood  that  neither  herself  nor  husband 
were  profe.ising  Christians,  I  attempted  to  point  out  to  her 
without  delay  the  way  to  be  ^aved,  and  directed  her  mind 
at  once  to  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  She  could  just  speak  a 
few  words  in  faint  and  broken  whispers, — ^just  enough  for 
me  to  ascertain  her  anxious  and  agitated  feelings.  I  en- 
deavored to  compose  her  mind,  and  to  explain  the  feelings 
which  were  becoming  in  us  as  sinners  when  we  look  to  the 
Saviour  for  pardon  and  peace.  She  looked  and  listened 
with   intense  interest,  and  I  have  seldom  felt,  as  I  then  did, 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT.  313 

The  paliem's  interest  in  relig-ion.  Her  address  to  her  husband. 

the  responsibility  of  trying  to  direct  any  one,  but  especially 
any  one  in  the  immediate  prospect  of  eternity,  to  the  Lamb 
of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world.  I  looked  to 
the  Saviour  to  help  and  to  guide  me,  to  put  such  thoughts 
in  my  heart,  and  words  in  my  mouth,  as  he  saw  were  ne- 
cessary, and  as  would  be  suited  to  the  sick,  and  as  I  sup- 
posed, dying  woman.  I  besought  him  earnestly,  in  silence, 
that  he  would  assist  me  in  bemg  faithful  and  useful  to  her 
immortal  soul. 

After  some  few  questions  and  some  remarks,  and  quota- 
tions from  the  Savioui-'s  words,  at  her  request  I  engaged  in 
prayer.  Her  husband,  one  son  about  1-2,  another  son  about 
6,  and  her  youngest  child  about  18  months,  were  present. 
Several  other  relations  and  friends  were  also  there.  We  kneeled 
around  her  bedside  and  besought  the  Lord  for  her.  Occa- 
sionally the  voice  of  prayer  was  interrupted  by  the  swoon 
into  which  she  was  falling  every  few  minutes.  After  a  short 
prayer  we  rose.  All  was  silent  except  the  sighing  of  her 
friends  around  her,  the  noise  of  the  fan  and  the  catching  of 
her  breath  as  she  recovered  from  a  swoon. 

After  a  few  minutes  had  elapsed,  during  which  she  seem- 
ed struggling  with  sickness  and  with  a  tumult  of  feeling  m 
her  bosom,  she  called  the  different  members  of  her  family 
around  her.  First  to  her  husband  she  addressed  herself, 
somewhat  in  these  words. 

"  And  now  my  dear  husband,  I  hope  you  will  keep  your 
resolution  and  not  let  the  next  communion  season  pass  with- 
out making  a  profession.*  I  have  been  more  lukewarm 
than  you.  If  I  had  been  as  much  engaged  as  j'ou  have,  we 
should  have  both  of  us  been  members  of  the  church  long 
ago,  but  I  have  held  back.  I  hope  you  will  not  fail  to 
keep  your  resolution." 

She  then  most  affectionately  bade  him  farewell,  express- 
ing the  tenderest  interest  in  his  religious  purposes,  and  in 
the  hope  of  a  happier  meeting  in  heaven.  After  a  moment's 
pause,  she  took  her  eldest  son  by  the  hand  and  addressed 
him  as  follows : 

"  And  now  my  dear  son  William,  I  am  going  to  leave 
you.     Your  poor  mother  is  going,  and  you  will  be  left  with- 

*  They  had,  at  a  communion  service  in  their  neighborhood,  a  short 
time  before,  unitedly  resolved  to  improve  the  next  occasion, which  was  expect- 
ed in  a  few  weeks,  to  connect  themselves  with  the  church,  and  enter  upon 
all  the  duties  of  christian  life. 

27 


314  YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Her  afTeciln^  remarks  to  her  children. 


out  father  or  mother  in  the  world,*  but  Mr  A.  has  always 
treated  jou  as  one  of  his  own  children,  and  if  jou  will  be 
good  and  obedient,  he  will  always  be  a  father  to  jou.  Be 
a  good  boy,  my  son,  and  God  will  take  care  of  you." 

The  poor  little  boy  as  he  held  his  mothei-'s  hand  in  one  of  his 
own,  and  covered  his  eyes  with  the  other,  wept  and  sobbed  as 
though  his  heart  would  break.  She  then  took  her  little 
Edward  by  the  hand,  and  bade  him  a  similar  and  equally 
affecting  adieu. 

The  youngest,  about  1 8  months  old,  she  requested  to  be 
laid  upon  her  pillow  in  her  bosom.  She  tenderly  embraced 
it,  and  all  icept. 

She  then  called  for  her  mother-in-law,  who  was  behind 
hei',  (the  bed  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,)  "  and  what 
shall  I  say  to  you,"  said  she,  "  you  have  been  a  mother  to 
me."  She  turned  to  a  gentleman  who  had  been  a  long  and 
valued  friend,  and  who  was  now  at  her  side,  fanning  her 
and  in  tears,  and  taking  his  hand,  expressed  her  ardent  af- 
fection and  gratitude  towards  him,  for  his  kindness  and  at- 
tention during  their  long  acquaintance.  She  alluded  to  an 
interview  with  him  many  years  ago,  and  seemed  most  deeply 
affected  in  remembrance,  as  I  thought,  of  some  proofs  of 
real  fraternal  kindness  which  she  then  received  from  him. 

She  sent  her  last  message  to  her  parents,  brothei-s  and  sis- 
ters, and  when  her  strength  and  voice  failed  her,  she  just 
uttered  in  a  faint  whisper, 

"  Please  to  sing,  '  Life  is  the  time  to  serve  the  Lord.'  " 

A  lady  who  was  present,  and  whose  eyes  and  heart  were 
full,  said, 

"  I  would  take  another, — '  O  for  an  overcoming  faith.'  " 

The  l\vmn  book,  however,  was  given  to  her  husband,  who 
read  two  lines  at  a  time,  of  the  hymn  his  wife  had  named, 
when  all  who  could  sing  and  whose  emotions  would  allow  it, 
joined  in  singing,  until  the  husband  completely  overcome, 
dropped  his  head,  unable  to  proceed.  Another  then  took  the 
book,  and  as  well  as  we  could,  with  tears  and  faltering  voices, 
we  closed  the  hymn. 

As  I  read  over  my  description  of  this  scene,  I  am  so  struck 
with  its  utter  weakness,  that  I  almost  regret  that  I  attemp- 
ted to  make  it.  It  made  an  impression  upon  my  mind,  that 
I  cannot  transcribe.  O  that  the  delusive  hope  of  preparing 
for  death  upon  a  death-bed  were  banished  forever  from  the 
earth." 


*  He  was  the  son  of  her  former  husband. 


PERSONAL    IMPROVEMENT,  315 

Moral  aspects  of  what  is  seen  aiid  heard.  Power  of  the  pen. 

I  have  inserted  the  two  foregoing  specimens,  in  order  to 
bring  up  as  distinctly  as  possible,  this  principle,  viz.  that  in 
all  your  efforts  at  intellectual  improvement,  you  ought  to 
look  with  special  interest  at  the  moral  bearings  and  relations 
of  all  which  you  read  or  hear.  The  heart  is  the  true  seat 
both  of  virtue  and  happiness,  and  consequently,  to  affect  the 
heart  is  the  great  ultimate  object  of  all  that  we  do.  The 
intellect  then  is  only  the  avenue  by  which  the  heart  is  to  be 
reached,  and  you  will  derive,  not  only  more  benefit,  but  far 
greater  pleasure  from  reflection  and  writing,  if  you  are  ac- 
customed  to  consider  the  moral  aspects  and  relations  of 
every  thing  which  you  observe,  or  of  which  you  read  or 
hear. 

A  great  prominence  has  been  given  in  this  chapter  to  the 
use  of  the  yen,  as  a  means  of  intellectual  and  moral  im- 
provement. I  assure  my  readers  that  the  power  of  the  pen 
for  such  a  purpose,  is  not  overrated.  I  am  aware  that  a 
great  many  persons,  though  thej^  may  approve  what  I 
have  said,  will  not  make  any  vigorous  and  earnest  efforts  to 
adopt  the  plan.  Still  more  will  probably  begin  a  book  or 
two,  but  will  soon  forget  their  resolution,  and  leave  the  half 
finished  book  in  some  neglected  corner  of  their  desks,  finally 
abandoned.  But  if  any  should  adopt  these  plans,  and  faith- 
fully prosecute  them,  they  will  find  that  practice  in  express- 
ing, in  their  own  language,  with  the  pen,  such  facts  as  they 
may  learn,  and  such  observations  or  reflections  as  they  may 
ma%e,  will  exert  a  most  powerful  influence  upon  all  the 
habits  of  the  mind,  and  upon  the  whole  intellectual  char- 
acter. 


CHAPTER     XII 


CONCLUSION.- 


"  And  now  I  commend  you  to  God,  and  to  ihe  word  of  his  grace,  which  is 
able  to  build  you  up  and  give  you  an  inheritance  among-  them  which  are  sanc- 
tified." 

As  I  draw  towards  the  close  of  this  volume  I  think  of  the 
influence  which  it  is  to  exert  upon  the  many  who  will  read 
it,  with  mingled  emotions  of  hope  and  fear.  I  have  endea- 
vored to  state,  and  to  illustrate  as  distinctly  as  I  could,  the 
principles  of  Christian  duty ;  and  if,  my  reader,  you  have 
pemsed  these  pages  with  attention  and  care,  tjiej'  must  have 
been  the  means  of  bringing  very  plainly  before  your  minds 
the  question  whether  you  will  or  will  not  confess  and  for- 
sake your  sins,  and  henceforth  live  to  God,  that  you  may 
accomplish  the  great  object  for  w^hich  life  was  given.  I 
shall  say  nothing  in  these  few  concluding  paragraphs  to  those 
who  have  read  thus  far,  without  coming  in  heart  to  the  Sa- 
viour. If  they  have  not  been  persuaded  ere  this  to  do  it, 
they  would  not  be  persuaded  by  any  thing  which  I  have 
time  and  space  now  to  say.  I  have,  however,  before  ending 
this  volume,  a  few  parting  words  for  those  who  have 
accompanied  me  thus  far,  with,  at  least,  some  attempt  at 
self-application, — some  desire  to  cherish  the  feelings  which 
I  have  endeavored  to  portray, — some  penitence  for  sin,  and 
resolutions  to  perform  the  duties  which  I  have  from  time  to 
time  pressed  upon  them. 

It  is,  if  the  bible  is  true,  a  serious  thing  to  have  opportu- 
nity to  read  a  religious  book, — and  more  especially  for  the 
young  to  have  opportunity  to  read  a  practical  treatise  on 
the  duties  of  piety,  written  expressly  for  their  use.  The 
time  is  coming  when  we  shall  look  back  upon  all  our  privi- 
leges with  sad  reflections  at  the  recollection  of  those  which 
we  have  not  improved,  and  it  is  sad  for  me  to  think  that 
many  of  those  who  shall  have  read  these  pages,  will  in  a 
future  and  perhaps  a  very  distant  day,  look  upon  me  as  the 
innocent  means  of  aggravating  their  sufferings,  by  having 
assisted  to  bring  them  light,  which  they  nevertheless  would 


CONCLUSION,  317 


Responsibility  of  religious  teachers.  Injury  to  be  done  by  this  book. 

not  regard.  This  unpleasant  part  of  mj  responsibility  I 
must  necessarily  assume.  I  share  it  with  every  one  who 
endeavors  to  lay  before  men  the  principles  of  duty,  and  the 
inducements  to  the  performance  of  it.  He  who  enlightens 
the  path  of  piety,  promotes  the  happiness  of  those  who  are 
persuaded  to  walk  in  it,  but  he  is  the  innocent  means  of 
adding  to  the  guilt  and  misery  of  such  as  will  still  turn 
away.  To  one  class  of  persons,  says  Paul,  "  we  are  the  savor 
of  death  unto  death,  and  to  the  other,  the  savor  of  life  unto 
life." 

It  is  not  merely  to  those  who  absolutely  neglect  or  refuse 
to  do  their  duty  to  God,  that  the  ill  consequences  of  having 
neglected  their  privileges  and  means  of  improvement  will 
accrue.  These  consequences  will  be  just  as  sure  to  those 
who  partially  neglect  them.  I  will  suppose  that  a  young 
person,  whose  heart  is  in  some  degree  renewed,  and  who 
has  begun  to  liv^e  to  God,  hears  of  this  book  and  procures  it 
to  read.  She  feels  desirous  of  cultivating  Chri&tian  princi- 
ples, and  she  sits  down  to  her  work  with  a  sincere  desire  to 
derive  spiritual  benefit  from  the  instructions.  She  does  not 
run  over  the  pages,  dissecting  out  the  stories,  for  the  sake  of 
the  interest  of  the  narrative,  and  neglecting  all  the  applica- 
tions of  them  to  the  purposes  of  instruction,  but  she  inquires, 
when  a  fact  or  an  illustration  is  introduced,  for  what  pur- 
pose it  is  used, — what  moral  lesson  it  is  intended  to  teach, — 
and  how  she  can  learn  from  it  something  to  guide  her  in 
the  discharge  of  duty.  She  goes  on  in  this  manner  through 
the  book,  and  generally  understands  its  truths  and  the 
principles  it  inculcates.  But  she  does  not  cordially  and  in 
full  earnest  engage  in  the  practice  of  them.  For  example, 
she  reads  the  chapter  on  confession,  and  understands  what  I 
mean  by  full  confession  of  all  sins  to  God,  and  forms  the 
vague  and  indefinite  resolution  to  confess  her  sins  more 
minutely  than  she  has  done,  but  she  does  not,  in  the  spirit 
of  that  chapter  explore  fully  all  her  heart,  and  scmtinize 
with  an  impartial  eye  all  her  conduct,  that  every  thing 
which  is  wrong  may  be  brought  to  light,  and  frankly  con- 
fessed and  abandoned.  She  does  not,  in  a  word,  make  a 
serious  and  an  earnest  business  of  confessing  and  forsaking 
all  sin. 

In  another  case,  a  young  man  who  is  perhaps  sincerely 
a  Christian,  through  the  influence  of  Christian  principle  is 
yet  weak  in  his  heart,  reads  that  portion  of  the  work  which 
*27 


318  youNg   christian. 


Imperfect  self-application.  A  useless  way  of  reading. 

i-elates  to  the  Sabbath.  He  knows  that  his  Sabbaths  have 
not  been  spent  in  so  pleasant  or  profitable  a  manner  as  they 
might  be,  and  he  sees  that  the  iirmciples  pointed  out  there, 
would  guide  him  to  dutj'  and  to  happiness  on  that  day,  if 
he  would  faithfully  and  perseveringly  apply  them  to  his 
own  case.  He  accordingly  makes  a  feeble  resolution  to  do 
it.  The  first  Sabbath  after  he  reads  the  chapter,  his  reso- 
lutions are  partiall}^  kept,  But  he  gradually  neglects  them 
and  returns  to  his  former  state  of  inaction  and  spiritual  tor- 
por on  God's  holy  day.  Perhaps  I  express  myself  too 
strongly  in  speaking  of  inaction  and  torpor  as  being  a 
possible  state  of  mind  for  a  Christian  on  the  Sabbath  ;  but 
it  must  be  admitted,  that  manj'  approach  far  too  near  to  it. 

Now  there  is  no  question  that  many  Young  Christians 
will  read  this  book  in  the  manner  1  have  above  described, 
that  is,  they  throw  themselves  as  it  were  passive/'?/  before  it, 
allowing  it  to  exert  all  the  influence  it  w^ill,  by  its  own  pow- 
er, but  doing  very  little  in  the  wav  of  vigorous  effort  to  obtain 
good  from  it.  'I'hey  seem  to  satisfj^  themselves  by  giving 
the  book  an  opportunity  to  do  them  good,  but  do  little  to 
draio  from  it,  by  their  own  active  efforts,  the  advantages 
which  it  might  secure.  Now  a  book  of  religious  instruction 
is  not  like  a  ?nedicine,  which,  if  it  is  once  admitted  into  the 
system,  will  produce  its  eftect,  without  any  farther  effort  on 
the  part  of  the  patient.  It  is  a  tool,  for  you  to  use  indus- 
triously yourself.  The  moral  powers  will  not  grow  unless 
you  cultivate  them  by  your  own  active  efforts.  If  you  satisfy 
yourself  with  merely  bringing  moral  and  religious  truth 
into  contact  with  your  mind,  expecting  it,  by  its  own  power, 
to  produce  the  hoped  for  fruits,  you  will  be  like  a  farmer 
who  should,  in  the  spring,  just  put  a  plough  or  two  in  one 
part  of  his  field,  and  half  a  'dozen  spades  and  hoes  in  anoth- 
er, and  expect  by  this  means  to  secure  a  harvest  in  the  fall. 
Many  persons  read  religious  books  continuallj'-,  but  they 
make  no  progress  in  piety.  7'he  reason  is,  their  ow^n  moral 
powers  are  inert  while  they  do  it.  The  ivteJhct  m?iy  be 
active  in  reading  and  understanding  the  successive  pages, 
but  the  heart  and  the  conscience  lie  still,  hoping  that  the 
truth  may  of  itself  do  them  good.  They  bring  the  instni- 
ment  to  the  field  and  lay  it  down,  and  stand  by  its  side, 
wondering  why  it  does  not  do  its  work. 

I  beg  my  readers  not  to  treat  this  volume  in  that  way,  and 
not  to  suppose  that  simply  reading  and  understanding  it, 


CONCLUSION.  31^ 


Effectual  reading-.  Plan  recommended. 

however  thoroughly  it  may  be  done,  will  do  them  any  good. 
The  book,  of  itself,  never  can  do  good ;  it  is  not  intended, 
strictly  speaking,  to  do  good.  It  is  intended  to  shew  its 
readers  how  they  may  do  good  to  themselves,  and  it  will 
produce  no  effect  upon  any  who  are  not  willing  to  he  active 
in  its  application  and  use,  except  to  increase  the  sorrows  of 
remorse  in  future  years. 

Do  you,  my  reader,  really  wish  to  derive  permanent  and 
real  moral  benefit  from  this  book.  If  so,  take  the  following 
measures.  It  is  a  course  which  it  would  be  well  for  you  al- 
ways to  take,  at  the  close  of  every  book  you  read  on  the 
subject  of  duty.  Recal  to  mind  all  those  passages  which, 
as  you  have  read  its  pages,  have  presented  to  you  something 
which  at  the  time  you  resolved  to  do.  Recollect,  if  you  can, 
every  plan  recommended,  which,  at  the  time  when  you  were 
reading  it,  seemed  to  be  suited  to  your  own  case,  and  which 
you  then  thought  you  should  adopt.  If  you  have  forgotten 
them,  you  can  easily  call  them  to  mind,  by  a  little  effort,  or  by 
a  cursory  review.  You  will  thus  bring  up  again  to  your 
minds  those  points  in  which  the  instructions  of  the  book 
are  particularly  adapted  to  you  own  past  history,  and  pres- 
ent spiritual  condition. 

After  having  thus  fully  reconsidered  the  whole  ground, 
and  gathered  all  the  permanent  points  which  are  pecu- 
liarly adapted  to  your  own  case,  into  one  view,  consider  de- 
liberately, before  you  finally  close  the  book,  ichat  you  will  do 
with  regard  to  them.  If  anything  has  been  made  plain  to  be 
your  duty,  consider  and  decide  distinctly  whether  you  will 
do  it  or  not.  If  any  thing  has  been  shewn  to  be  conducive 
to  your  happiness,  determine  deliberately  and  understand- 
ingly  whether  yow  will  adopt  it  or  not.  Do  not  leave  it  to 
be  decided  by  chance,  or  by  your  own  accidental  feelings  of 
energy  or  of  indolence,  what  course  you  will  take  in  refer- 
ence to  a  subject  so  momentous  as  the  questions  of  religious 
duty.  I  fear,  however,  that  notwithstanding  all  that  I  can 
say,  very  man}^  even  among  the  most  thoughtful  of  my 
readers,  will  close  this  book  without  deriving  from  it  any 
permanent  good,  either  ni  their  conduct  or  their  hearts.  It 
will  have  only  produced  a  few  good  intentions  which  will 
never  be  carried  into  effect,  or  aroused  them  to  momentary 
effort,  which  will  soon  yield  again  to  indolence  and  lan- 
guor. 


320  VOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 

Be  in  earnest.  A  great  proportion  of  life  gone. 

There  is  no  impression  that  I  would  more  strongly  desire 
to  produce  in  these  few  remaining  pages,  than  that  you  should 
be  in  earnest,  in  deep  and  persevering  earnest,  in  your  efforts 
after  holiness  and  salvation.  If  you  are  interested  enough 
in  religion  to  give  up  the  pleasures  of  sin,  you  lose  all  enjoy- 
ment unless  you  grasp  the  happiness  of  piety.  There  are, 
at  the  present  day,  great  numbers  in  whose  hearts  religious 
principle  has  taken  so  strong  a  hold  as  to  awaken  conscience 
and  to  destroy  their  peace,  if  thy  continue  to  sin  ;  but  they 
do  not  give  themselves  up  tcith  all  their  hearts  to  the  service 
of  their  Saviour.  They  feel,  consequently,  that  they  have 
lost  the  world  ; — they  cannot  be  satisfied  with  its  pleasures, 
and  they  are  unhappy  and  feel  that  they  are  out  of  place, 
when  in  the  company  of  its  votaries.  But  though  they  have 
thrown  themselves  out  of  one  home,  they  do  not  in  earnest 
provide  themselves  with  another.  They  do  not  give  all  the 
heart  to  God.  No  life  is  more  delightful  than  one  spent  in 
intimate  communion  with  our  Father  above,  and  in  earnest 
and  devoted  efforts  to  please  him  by  promoting  human  hap- 
piness, and  none  is  perhaps  more  unhappy,  and  prepares 
more  effectually  for  a  melancholy  djdug  hour,  than  to  spend 
our  days  with  the  path  of  duty  plain  before  us,  and  con- 
science urging  us  to  walk  in  it,  while  we  hang  back  reluc- 
tantly,— and  walk  with  a  slow  and  hesitating  step, — and 
look  away  wistfully  at  the  fruits  which  we  dare  not  taste. 
Do  not  take  such  a  course  as  this.  When  you  abandon  the 
world,  abandon  it  entirely ; — and  when  you  choose  God  and 
religion  for  your  portion,  do  it  with  all  your  heart.  OuJ,run 
conscience  in  the  path  of  dutj^  instead  of  waiting  to  have 
your  lagging  steps  quickened  by  her  scourge. 

Once  more.  Much  less  of  life  is  left  to  you  than  you  gen- 
erally suppose.  Perhaps  the  average  age  of  the  readers  of 
this  book  is  between  fifteen  and  twenty,  and  fifteen  or 
twenty  years  is  probably,  upon  an  average,  half  of  life.  I 
call  you  young  because  you  are  young  in  reference  to  the 
active  business  of  this  world.  You  have  just  reached  the 
full  developement  of  your  powers,  and  have  consequently 
but  just  begun  the  actual  work  of  life.  The  long  j^ears  that 
are  passed,  have  been  spent  in  preparation.  Hence  you  are 
called  young — you  are  said  to  be  just  beginning  life,  under- 
standing by  life  the  pursuits  and  the  business  of  maturity. 
But  life,  if  you  understand  by  it  the  season  of  preparation 
for  eternity,  is  more  than  half  gone ; — life,  so  far  as  it  pre- 


CONCLUSION.  321 


Closing  address  to  Parents. 


sents  opportunities  and  facilities  for  penitence  and  pardon, — 
so  far  as  it  bears  on  the  formation  of  character,  and  is  to  be 
considered  as  a  period  of  probation, — is  unquestionably  more 
than  half  gone  to  those  who  are  between  fifteen  and  twenty. 
In  a  vast  number  of  cases,  it  is  more  than  half  gone  even 
i7i  duration,  at  that  time,  and  if  w^e  consider  the  thousand 
influences  which  crowd  around  the  years  of  childhood  and 
youth,  winning  to  piety  and  making  a  surrender  to  Jehovah 
easy  and  pleasant  then, — and  on  the  other  hand  look  for- 
ward beyond  the  years  of  maturity,  and  see  these  influences 
losing  all  their  power,  and  the  heart  becoming  harder  and 
harder  under  the  deadening  effects  of  continuance  m  sin,  we 
shall  not  doubt  a  moment  that  the  years  of  immaturity  make 
a  far  more  important  part  of  our  time  of  probation  than  all 
those  that  follow. 

You  will  do  right  then,  w^hen  you  are  thinking  of  your 
business  or  your  profession,  to  consider  life  as  but  begun, 
but  when  you  look  upon  the  great  work  of  preparation  for 
another  world,  you  might  more  properly  consider  it  as  nearly 
ended.  Almost  all  moral  changes  of  character  are  usually 
effected  before  the  period  at  which  you  have  arrived,  and 
soon  all  that  will  probably  remain  to  you  on  earth  is  to  ex- 
emplify, for  a  few  years,  the  character  which  in  early  life 
you  formed.  If,  therefore,  you  would  do  any  thing  in  your 
own  heart,  for  the  cause  of  truth  and  duty,  you  must  do  it  in 
earnest,  and  you  must  do  it  now. 

I  have  intended  this  book  chiefly  for  the  young,  but  I 
cannot  close  it  without  a  word  at  parting  to  those  of  my 
readers  who  have  passed  the  boundary  of  youth.  If  the 
work  shall  at  all  answer  the  purpose  for  which  it  is  intended, 
it  will,  in  some  instances  at  least,  be  read  by  the  mature ; 
' — and  I  may  perhaps,  without  impropriety,  address  a  few 
words  respectfully  to  them. 

You  are  probably  parents ;  your  children  have  been  read- 
ing this  book,  and  you  have  perhaps  taken  it  up  because 
you  are  interested  in  whatever  interests  them.  You  feel 
also,  a  very  strong  desire  to '  promote  their  piety,  and  this 
desire  leads  you  to  wish  to  hear,  yourselves,  whatever  on  this 
subject  is  addressed  to  them.  I  have  several  times  in  the 
course  of  this  work  intimated,  that  the  principles  which  it 
has  been  intended  to  illustrate  and  explain,  are  equally  ap- 
plicable to  young  and  old.     It  has  been  adapted  in  its  style 


322 


YOUNG    CHRISTIAN. 


Tlieir  co-operation.  Ways  in  which  they  may  co-operate. 

and  manner  onlj^  to  the  former  class,  and  I  have  hoped 
as  I  huve  penned  its  pages,  that  a  father  might  sometimes 
himself  be  aifected  by  truths  which  he  was  reading,  during 
a  winter  evening,  to  his  assembled  family,  or  that  a  mother 
might  take  up  the  book  purchased  for  her  children,  and  be 
led  herself  to  the  Saviour  by  a  chapter  which  was  mainly 
written  for  the  purpose  of  winning  them.  1  do  not  intend 
however  to  press  here  again  your  own  personal  duties.  I 
have  another  object  in  view. 

That  object  is,  to  ask  you  to  co-operate  fully  and  cordi- 
ally in  this,  and  in  all  similar  efforts  to  promote  the  welfare 
of  your  children.  If  j^ou  have  accompanied  them  through 
this  volume,  you  will  know  what  parts  of  it  are  peculiarly 
adapted  to  their  condition  and  wants,  Tlicse  parts  you  can 
do  much  to  impress  upon  their  minds  by  your  explanations, 
and  by  encouraging  them  to  make  the  efforts  they  require. 
The  interest  which  a  father  or  a  mother  takes  in  such  a 
book,  is  a  pretty  sure  criterion, — it  is  almost  the  very  regu- 
lator of  that  felt  by  the  child. 

If  you  notice  any  thing  in  the  volume  which  you  think 
erroneous,  or  calculated  to  lead  to  error, — or  if  there  is  any 
fault  which  your  child  discovers,  and  brings  to  you  with  a 
criticism  which  you  feel  to  be  just, — do  not  deny  or  attempt 
to  conceal  the  fault,  because  it  occurs  in  a  book  whose  gen- 
eral object  and  aim  you  approve.  Separate  the  minute  im- 
perfections from  the  general  object  and  design  of  the  whole, 
and  while  you  freely  admit  a  condemnation  of  the  one,  show 
that  it  does  not  effect  the  character  of  the  other,  and  thus 
remove  every  obstacle  which  would  impede  what  is  the 
great  design  of  the  book, — to  press  the  power  of  religious 
obligation  in  its  most  plain  and  simple  form. 

On  the  other  hand,  do  not  magnify  the  faults  which  you 
may  find,  or  think  you  find,  or  turn  off  the  attention  of  your 
children  from  the  serious  questions  of  duty  which  the  book 
is  intended  to  bring  before  the  conscience  and  the  heart, 
to  a  cold  and  speculative  discussion  of  the  style,  or  the  logic, 
or  the  phraseology  of  the  author.  A  religious  book  is  in 
some  degree  entitled  to  the  privilege  of  a  religious  speaker. 
Parents  easily  can,  on  their  walk  home  from  church,  oblit- 
erate all  ser  ous  impressions  from  the  minds  of  their  children, 
by  conversation  which  shews  that  they  are  looking  only  at 
the  literary  aspects  of  the  performance  to  which  they  have 
listened.     In  the  same  manner  they  can  destroy  the  influ- 


CONCLUSION.  323 


Religious  example  of  Parents. 


ence  of  a  book,  bj  turning  awaj^  attention  from  tiie  ques- 
tions of  duty  which  it  brings  up,  to  an  inquiry  into  the  logic 
of  an  arguiTient,  or  a  comment  upon  the  duhiess  or  the  inter- 
est of  a  story. 

There  is  one  thing  more  whicii  I  may  perhaps  witliout 
impropriety  say.  Your  rehgious  influence  over  your  chil- 
dren will  depend  far  more  on  your  example  than  upon  your 
efforts  to  procure  for  them  good  religious  instruction.  They 
look  to  3^ou  for  an  exemplification  of  piety,  and  if  they  do 
not  see  this,  you  cannot  expect  that  they  will  yield  them- 
selves to  its  principles  on  your  recommendation.  Your  chil- 
dren, too,  must  see  piety  exemplified  in  a  way  which  they 
can  appreciate  and  understand.  To  make  vigorous  efforts 
for  the  support  of  the  gospel, — to  contribute  generously  for 
the  varioiis  benevolent  objects  of  the  daj^ — and  even  to  cul- 
tivate in  your  hours  of  secret  devotion  the  most  heartfelt 
and  abasnig  penitence  for  sin,  will  not  alone  be  enough  to 
recommend  piety  effectually  to  3''our  children.  They  look 
at  other  aspects  of  your  conduct  and  character.  They  ob- 
serve the  tone  of  kindness  or  of  harshness  with  which  you 
speak, — -the  tranquillity  or  the  irritation  with  wliich  you 
bear  the  little  trials  and  disappointments  of  life, — your  pa- 
tience in  suffering  and  your  calmness  in  danger.  They  watch 
you,  to  observe  how  faithfully  you  perform  the  ordinary  du- 
ties of  your  station.  They  look  with  eager  interest  into 
your  countenance  to  see  with  what  spirit  you  receive  an  in- 
jury, or  rebuke  what  is  wrong. 

By  making  faithful  and  constant  efforts  to  live  like  Chris- 
tians yourselves,  and  to  exhibit  to  your  children  those  effects 
of  piety  upon  your  conduct  and  character,  which  they  can 
understand  and  appreciate,  and  by  adapting  religious  instruc- 
tion to  the  peculiar  intellectual  habits  of  the  young,  you 
may  anticipate  a  sure  and  an  abundant  Diessing  upon  your 
labors.  Childhood  is  a  most  fertile  part  of  the  vineyard  of 
the  Lord.  The  seed  which  is  planted  there  vegetates  very 
soon,  and  the  weeds  which  spring  up  are  easily  eradicated. 
It  is  in  fact  in  every  respect  an  easy  and  a  pleasant  spot  to 
till,  and  the  flowers  and  fruits  which,  with  proper  effort,  will 
bloom  and  ripen  there,  surpass  all  others  in  richness  and 
beauty. 


Date  Due 

r-frn^ 

-• 

. 

'^IWMMiiillJiiii 

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